Muffins with cider. Hot apple trees, gourds and corn. Husk better costumes and sunlight untouched by that thick layers of humidities. Candy apple butter nut spread bagels and cream cheese with the hole filled in on a Saturday. There is tea and honey and sips of coffee rings on newspaper with boxes filled in, but only a few. I won’t say crosswords. The sound of airplanes and birds. Trees move with more ease and I am not dripped on by foreign water droplets coming from (what I hope to be) someone’s air-conditioner. Toast, crunchy nut butter taste sauce, apple style pie a la mode. (yum). Leaves brown fall choppity crunch. My foot, feet his, feet hers are stompers around these parts near fall of large petal leaves. Pumpkin great patch focus on lower temps with shorter days but longer sleeps. Down comforter can’t wait sweater time, new one wait for me there. Smells dissipate earlier. Turkey time begins shorter. Skin turns whiter. Wool sheep on farms move from cows’ shade. Stand on the side of the stream and put notdogs on sticks. Wave them around camp style, melty marshmallows and wool socks. Pitch me a tent, I’m staying for a bit. Here with fall, her large gourds and his leaves.