Orange and Unassuming

They sat there still,
All round and orange and unassuming,
Nestled in big cardboard boxes,
An Autumnal premonition.

The turn in weather,
Not always received with welcome,
Echoes the assumption,
Autumn is coming.

Something in their aspect,
Their lackadaisical nestled posture,
Was warmly comforting,
This Autumn morning.

Soon life transpires,
They'll change their shape,
All fang-toothed smiles
One Autumn night.

For now they sit,
Still striped with dirt in cozy piles,
Not knowing their fate
As Autumn falls.


This morning on my drive to work, I passed by Winco in the early morning. Despite the months I've worked this job, and the past few weeks when I've managed to ride my bike to work, early mornings are still not my friends. Something about the big pumpkins poking out of their display boxes in around the sliding doors warmed me inside. Fall always promises certain things. The skies turn gray and the rain begins to soak the ground, but the trees go all ablaze in a display of the fires inside. My birthday will come (not always sure how welcome that is at this stage, but I still like presents ;). Halloween will have it's day, bringing with it some ghoulish delights and age old traditions. Then there's Thanksgiving and all the taste sensations it inspires: pumpkin pies, turkey, endless treats. And this year the promise of another round of change, both professionally and then personally. In the midst of life that is ever flying, something about those pumpkins helped my mind to settle. They reminded me of the promise that every day is new, but that there are also sweet reminders of the past, those remembered traditions, to be enjoyed. They got so in my head that I thought of them all day, and even though I wrote a post earlier today I felt the need to write again. Just had to get it out, to help memorialize the moment.