Leaves crunch into the soil, giving the air an earthy aroma
The air is crisp on a cool Autumn evening
Children reach their hands up and keep on reaching,
Stretching their arm as far as can be, pressed on their tippy toes

They reach and reach as far as can be, pushing until they get to the top of the tree
Falls to the ground a few ripe, refreshing, rich surprises.

The young child walks into the kitchen
Out comes Grandma ready for cooking.
She preheat the oven to 365, there is no way the apples will survive.
Slicing the juicy fruit, and layering them one by one on top of the yeasty tart
Into the oven it goes, looking like abstract art,
Wait twenty minutes, then it's time to glaze.

Slip the oven mitt over her hand, the piece of art laid on the rack.
Before it cools, we must add the tangy glaze,
My mind once spins into a daze,
The sweet coating melts like quicksand.
Little did the short boy know, that those few delicate apples would brighten a day.
As we sit around the table, devouring this delicious, apple tart,
The boy is reminded of this beautiful Autumn day.