It was mid-November, and fall had arrived. The rural landscape had fallen under its spell. Foliage showed off shades of red, gold, and orange. Crops of fruits and vegetables stood tall and proud after months of growth. At four o’clock, Farmer Peterson’s truck grumbled over the bridge overlooking his farm. Beyond the bridge, a creek ...

  A swirling shell   That holds inside Beauty and bounty Under the guise Of tart apples, sweet corn, Juicy grapes, and zesty squash Waiting for hungry visitors To arrive and nosh Leaves twirl downwards Around the banquet But people don’t come They tend to forget What true beauty and bounty Is needed for life ...