Summer is in the back of her throat, wrapped in a delicate wax paper mache of tropic banana leaves.
The clouds in the sky above her look like puffy coat lapels, or like pubescent pouts post the negative vacuum of a shot glass per the Kylie Jenner lip challenge.
All around, the leaves craft aeolian chrysalises; you can taste the pre-gold fulvid beer, and the sumptuous boudin noir in their pigments.
Leaves of Uruguayan blood pudding lie crisp in the grass; next to them, icy orange peels with sugar rinds that are buttoned down with tumeric candied dates. Rich head cheese jellies and prairie oysters paint colors of carné on ash blonde lawns.
Autumnby paints gold dust on underbrush flanking the dirt path through the woods. Her chocolate brown afro curls turn a cool blue in the dusk.
She is swathed in an oversized white plush cowl, her bluish curls making a halo around her mahogany face.
Her magic swirls around her; fall time fortunes fill an ivory tusk cornucopia with the pollen of golden wish dust: crabapples, hard cider, maize moonshine, fermented berries and buttery gourds tumble from her lips into the fog.
Autumnby hangs wishes from the coat hooks of peeling tree bark, from the lose threads in dew studded spider webs, and from the figgy purplish-sables of rotting rose thistles.
Have you seen this little witch granting wishes in your neck of the woods today?