She Whispers To Me

The following little diddly poem is what happens when I'm bored and it's cloudy and chilly outside...I get all giddy for her arrival. Can you guess who??????

She whispers to me
To let me know she is almost here.
I know it’s her; I can feel her gentle chill in the air.
Is that her over the cloudy horizon I see?

My blood thickens in anticipation of her undoubted arrival;
And I search for stored away additions for warmth.
While remembering to tuck away signs of her absence
I hear her again; her siren call.

I call out to her, “Come quick! I am waiting!”
As my patience starts to yield to my overjoyed soul.
Will she stay long? I can only hope she does.
Her visits are normally so short lived; but breathtaking.

My neck is covered in knitted love and protection
And my boot covered feet tap with anxious curiosity.
My pumpkins sit on their hale bales knowing her presence is encroaching on us.
Can she feel all my affection?

She is so beautiful and strong.
Her rustic and golden colors consume the dead ground; giving it life.
She always brings her distinct scent of cinnamon; her presence is known.
To hate her would be wrong.

BTW, the poem belongs to me. No stealing. It's wrong. Not that it's a great and wonderful poem and all; and not that you'll love it enough to steal it; but it's still mine, so no copying and pasting!

Keep on Keepin on.