French autumn breathes in gold—
the harvest waves surrender,
a slow unfolding of time’s intent.
Mulberry leaves spin in soft descent.
Sunflowers, once proud,
bow their sun-dried heads.
Chestnuts, in their prickly casing,
and pumpkins dot the fields—
each an autumn testament.
Cèpes rise above the soil,
their pungent perfume rich in the air.
Pomegranates split with grace—
ruby jewels gleam within,
as grapes linger on the vine,
soon to be sweetness poured
or gathered by the fistful,
wrinkled into memory.
Revealing that even what breaks
can nourish.
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