In this glorious, but all-too-brief season in Appalachia, killing frost silences the nights except for the rustle of branches. Color steals across the trees, and leaves begin to drop. I wrote this poem after relocating to the South and falling in love (again) with autumn in the Blue Ridge.
Tag: autumn
Time Falls Back: The Loss of Afternoon Gold
Autumn is my favorite season with its changing colors and nip in the air. But there’s always a tradeoff. When the clock falls back, we lose the golden hour at day’s end—the price for getting an extra hour of sleep.