The comforts of autumn are welcome.
On cool days, I venture outside for longer.
Leaves turn, fall, and spice the earth.
My hands grow delicate as the seasons shift,
touching everything I can
in appreciation for the land—
and its magic.

Cemetery flowers last longer in the fall.
Less grounds cleanup.
Rain doesn’t wash them away,
and the sun only kisses
petals and foliage.
When I pay my respects,
flowers in the fall are best.
A penny for our veterans.
A few coins for the spirits at the gate.
A splash of water for the land,
and a joyful heart—
to say hello to my dead
and leave them with some gossip.

Soon I’ll dress less scarcely,
more warmed by colorful tights
and black dresses with long sleeves.
Boots a-clomping, laced up and well grounded—
heels enchanted for fun
and magic in my step.
I’ll scent vanilla
and dress my little one spooky-sweet,
just like Momma—
until she can speak
and tell me she loves pink.

© 2025 Raven | Jasmine on the Grave. All rights reserved.