Fall has a certain feeling to it; asserting its arrival—

the air gets crisp and the leaves start to fall,

the smell of fires and burning wood float through the air.

Hot cocoa heats up chilled fingers of children—

fall has a certain feeling to it; asserting its arrival.

I look outside to see colorful leaves masking the grass of tour Wisconsin backyard—

grabbing a rake from the garage, I run out back to gather the leaves

the crackle of the leaves as I rake them together fills the air—

I see the breath from my heavy panting as I start to tire out

and as I looked around at my work, I smile

The pile is ready; the perfect hiding spot for a little one like me—

I call my parents out to look at what I’ve done

and then frantically run to cover myself in the leaves—

my parents, knowing what's going on, play along anyway and pretend to search—

when I hear their footsteps get close, I jump and yell with my arms out wide

My parents pretend to be shocked and run to give me a hug.

They praise my work and ask if they can jump in it too—

I pretend to ponder before letting them know they could—

the next few hours are spent together in joy,

jumping into leaves and admiring the start of the new season.