Caramel drizzled apples, wood stacked,
bonfire ready. Evening's still too humid,
yet a leaf spirals down, crimson tipped -
heralds, "Soon. Soon".
I fickly proclaim Autumn "my favorite",
weary of sun-filled, heat-drenched days.
Beneath my kitchen window
the fawn's still speckled, buck's antlers fuzzy.
Just a pane of glass divides
sweet green grass and apple pie.
by Margaret Bednar, September 7, 2014
This is for "Imaginary Garden of Real Toads - Flash Fiction 55. (or non-fiction - prose, poetry - but it must be 55 words - no more, no less) For my way of counting, hyphenated words count as one :)