I’ve waited patiently for you,
for the chance to cover my shoulders and knees,
too long scorched by the summer sun.
For layers of clothes,
textiles of texture.
I warmly welcome your hot cocoa nights
and apple cider mornings.
I will not be able to help myself.
I know I will dine on gooey dumplings
and hot chicken broth
On fall festival stews and buttery cookies.
I know it will be harder to pull myself
out from under the covers in a few months,
but for now, I will sneak out of bed
a few moments earlier than I normally would
because sleeping any more
would be such a waste of a beautiful day.
I will need to charge my camera’s batteries
because I plan to capture each changing leaf,
each color that was hidden.
Like unearthing a prior paint palette,
a masterpiece that had been overexposed these last few months,
unveiled again. Finally.
The watercolors of summer bleed off the earth
Enjoy it while you can
because the charcoal sketch of winter
will soon steal it away again.
I plan to line up some candles,
call it my fireplace,
and snuggle up with a warm drink
a good book,
and a lapful of kids.
To love, to laugh,
and more than likely,