a silent descent. on a wisp of air, feather-like float to the ground. another season, come and gone. brown, yellowish orange, red mounds piled high. they beckon for someone to leap and land on their softness.
an inquisitive, thoughtful mind once told me that yellow is a not only a color, bright and beautiful. But, also a high note, a full chord, strong and true. it warms from the outside, all the way through.
autumn's glow lingers a soothing warmth, a blanket newly drawn from the dryer. I'd wrap myself in it's softness, but for the coming chill I feel.
the last leaves are falling, they no longer persist to hang by their thread-like stems, clinging for life.
a season of beauty, these golden hues.
now barren branches standing. they usher in Winter's stillness and calm.
