Autumn is like the beginning of the end. 

It’s the beginning of the cold air that makes your nose run, 

But it’s the end of the heat from the months of the summer sun. 

It’s the beginning of the sweaters, vests, boots, and coats, 

But the end of the tank tops and swimsuits, and everything that floats. 

It’s the beginning of freshly dead leaves lining the sidewalk,

But the end of the rainbows and hopscotch embedded in chalk. 

It’s the beginning of the homemade Halloween costumes and pillowcases of sweets,

But at the end of the Fourth of July, fireworks and blankets on lawn seats. 

It’s the beginning of street lamps shining the way after dark, 

But the end of the umbrellas on a beach, keeping an eye out for sharks. 

It’s the beginning of bats, ghosts, and spiderwebs decorating the fireplace, 

But the end of late-night stargazing, staring deep into outer space. 

It’s the beginning of witches for Halloween, who are the old ladies next door, 

But the end of pineapples, watermelons, and all of the fresh fruit that you adore. 

It’s the beginning of pumpkin pie made from the guts of the one you carved life into, 

But the end of running around all day without a thing you have to do. 

The ending of these moments isn’t bad at all,

It is just making more space for the opening of fall. 

It gives us a chance to be grateful for everything in those summer months,

To look back on and reminisce and be thankful for what the warmth brought us. 

Getting us excited and ready for everything the “ber” months will also bring, 

Like trick-or-treating, pumpkin carving, and all those kinds of things. 

What I have learned in my few years of living, 

Is that sometimes it’s the smaller things that get my legs kicking. 

Like a cold gust of wind guiding dying leaves that were unstable,

Or the smell of cinnamon and every baked good crowding the kitchen table. 

But my favorite is seeing the little kids on Halloween, 

The ones that still believe in the magic and everything that falls between. 

The ones with homemade costumes as princesses and ghosts, 

It reminds me of when my mom and I would do the same, always doing the most. 

She transformed me into a Barbie doll, a Rubik’s Cube, and even a cake,

I was like her canvas and became whatever she wanted to make. 

It’s okay to let go of the seasons sometimes, 

And watch the world transform into new rhymes. 

Be grateful for the time you have, as everything comes to an end. 

The seasons will always come around again, like the returning of an old friend.