The poetry of pumpkins blazes forth on front stoops just as summer ‘s heels vanish around the corner trailing vines and gray clouds like scarves. Plump and pedigreed descendants of the charmed stagecoach that once-upon-a-time delivered a fairytale princess and her fragile footwear into destiny’s arms. Now relegated to the role of Autumn’s doorman. Beguiling tiger cubs standing guard on porch steps.¬†Unapologetically orange and somehow comforting as a campfire. Interrupting fog’s blanket statement with radiant memories of the sun. Tossing joy like hot potatoes into the pockets of passersby whose fingers will curl around it. And whose hearts will begin to glow. Jack-o-lantern fashion. From the inside out.

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