It starts up in the trees: a frail rustling through the leaves brought on by a cold, bracing breeze. Sweeping down through the ground there is a change of hue—an array of a colorful display.
Signs of snow land on outlying summits and with each day the encroaching accumulation alerts the trees’ extremities as they act out a slow desaturation—waiting to be white.
At the confluence of fire and ice, autumn trickles into our consciousness. It enters our core with a calming decline from the anxious heat—we relax and breathe it in.
Inhaling—morning bites at our noses and scratches our skeletons. Waves of heat are gone with summer’s tide and the incoming swell is soothing. Nights grow longer with each crisp morning and frigid sunrise.
There is a corporeal energy vibrating through mankind—death to one brings life to another. The irony is not lost as we frolic and play in the death and decay—running full speed toward a yet colder day.
Falling from above with one last gust, the fading foliage refuses to hang on any longer, letting go of all it knows. Spiraling down to be buried on the ground.
For some, the best is yet to come.