The days have grown perilously short
Wet leaves on the wind, swift through sedge and switchgrass
Rhythmic turning everywhere
Tea in the winter and gin through the summer
Poured high in a Collins glass
But autumn always hints at whisky
Bouquet of malted vapours
Wafting through cool air stabbed by southbound geese
Their lonesome cries haunt the young and the old
Touching something inside
Something restless that can't be named
If you want to learn about something
Learn to go without it
But if you want to understand
Go with it, along for the ride
It is autumn
It is a new arrival, a new fall rising
A new turning
Mellow and sharp
Nothing can ever be the same once the first taste hits your lips
October will seep into your very bones
Even as the angel's portion slips from the caskwood
Riding home through evening mist
Conflagrated with new colours and aged aromas
While the devil, slowly sipping
Watches from your shoulder
Deepest October
A time for spirits