I Hate Autumn

I hate autumn.

The colors, the wind, the chill, the wilted plants.

Autumn is the drama queen of the year,

Always in crisis,

Flinging beauty about recklessly.


Autumn gets under your skin.

Sneakier than winter, more glamorous than spring.

Deceitful, unlike steady, predictable summer.

Your body rebels, gets hungry, dry, tired.

Bones really can get cold.


Hard earth, rotten crab apples, smacked pumpkins,

Cold floor in the morning, hot floor by the fire.

Autumn brings discomfort, irritation, stinky sweaters,

Dark afternoons, garbage tipped over, the cat goes

In and out, in and out, in and out baffled by the cold.


Okay, so the kids scrape through the crunchy leaves.

The dog is friskier, the sky is blindingly clear,

The stars almost touch the garden ground.

The roof stops leaking. No more mowing.

I don’t care, I still hate autumn.

About alicebarrett

Small town writer
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