Fall

Fall is slipping through our mitten clad fingers, kittens. 

Feet have crunched leaves.

Shadows have grown longer.

There were many games of football vs. football,

 and football always won. 

Midwestern eyes are wide in fear of the impending 
months of doom and drear,
 and all the giddy chain stores are already
dripping with Christmas. 

It's all coming to an end, and I'm doing my best to 
chase it out in style. 

May your fists be full of leaves and mugs of warm things.
Until the next, boogers.