It is a perfectly glorious Autumn day;
bright with sun and promise.
A brisk breeze stirs the leaves
and starts them spiraling down
to nestle with the others.
I can hear the ‘scritch scritch’ of the rake
wielded by my husband in the backyard,
as he tries to stay ahead of the heaps
already covering the ground.
It is a season of texture and sound,
scent and taste.
The rustle and crackle of the leaves,
the feel of that breeze in my hair;
against my face, rosy-ing my cheeks.
The crunch of apples Ý the aroma of cinnamon.
We have decided to drop everything and just go.
The chores will still be there when we return.
We take a meandering drive on country roads;
stopping here and there at roadside stands.
The colors are breathtaking!
Orange pumpkins, yellow haystacks
and the dazzling adornment of the trees.
We stop for lunch,
enjoying being together - away.
It has been a lovely interlude.
The long ride back is peaceful.
I turn to watch him;
he turns at the same time.
Our eyes meet; we smile.
He drives with one hand,
the other one clasping mine; caressing it.
That small gesture
holds a promise of its own.
© Ellie Maziekien
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