All kinds

* Sniffs at air like puppy *

It's Friday~

and there is magic in the air.

Someone on our road has lit a log fire,

I can smell and almost hear the crackle from here.

Autumn has settled right in,

hasn't she?

Short, gray little days

that don't stay around for long,

jars full of cinnamon sticks  to lift the gloom.

Mornings as crisp as the crust on an apple pie.

It's started to rain now,

but when I look, 

magic hides, 

in every drop.

This weekend?

It's all kinds of magic.