The time of year where the sun shines different and the moon makes an early appearance.
Mountains with their orange, yellows, and ambers whisper a subtle invite of get-a-way adventure.
Tea time comes earlier in the evenin’ under orange sky and brisk air.
Kitchens smell of cinnamon and spice as the oven toasts the baker’s cheeks.
Mornings clothe the jogger in a jacket, yet noon day reminds him of summer’s end.
Rows of pumpkins strewn out for the picking, artists awaiting their canvas.
Sea breeze feels crisp as the shoreline runs with a promising break.
Farmers take their last pick and make their beds for another prize.
Leaves crunch under stout young men’s feet as they wrestle to the ground.
Rains pause for a brief moment, suspended in clouds until looming frigid months.
Chocolate covered sticky hands are wiped on levi’s before mom can wipe up the mess.
Tired eyes fall asleep as embers fade, smokey perfume lingering ’til mornin’
Neighbors huddled around picnic tables shuckin’ and sharing a beer.
Pecans fought for as squirrels scamper and grandmas whisk.
Porches fill with friendly faces, hammocks hang from palms with bundled beans swinging.
Poured over with gravy shrimp lay on fluff, served morning and night.
‘Tis the time of year the light hits the Lowcountry on her softer side.