I love crisp apples baked into cinnamon-y pies and steaming soups made from squashes. I love hard bread when it's been toasted and the word, bob.
I want to spend all of eternity stepping my boots down on top of leaves that crunch under my tread and watching the crimson and orange and amber dancers drift and twirl on winds that bite and snap.
I would be a bird that lights on the airy current.
I would be a brown twig caught in a swirling eddy making my lazy way down a swollen stream.
I would be the last warm breeze that kisses your cheek; goodbye, until we meet again.
When I am in heaven, I will carry an arm load of books and be in a hurry. It will be Autumn, I will be rushing to class, the campus will have trees and the trees will have over-reaching limbs. The warm, woodsy scent of an outdoor fire will waft on the air and I'll tug at the sleeves of my flannel shirt to cover the bare skin of my chilled hands.
Maybe there'll be caramel, probably there will be wine, often there will be laughter, and of course there will be books...many, many books, because it's heaven.
These commas are dedicated to my much loved friend, Judith Post, and in respect for the passing of her mother. God Bless us, every one.