The hillside is a pumpkin patch,
pops of orange amongst
rolling hills of green.
We search for symmetry
in the dividing skylines,
red tree stop signs,
the roads a rope of thick vines.
The blue mountain woolen sleeves
itching the sunless sky,
rustle of an oversized afternoon,
vast brown cider ground,
wobbly trees, and a baggy breeze.
We haul our favorite find
fresh from vine,
grateful for grip, and
imperturbable family relationships.
© 2022 | K.Hartless