Sunday, November 16, 2008
a damp chill in the air
the smell of wet leaves
a barren tree silhouetted against a cloudy sky
a gust of wind that sends the last leaves dancing across my lawn
a myriad of browns where once there was color
I love not just the bright, colorful majesty of early fall, but the fragile beauty of decay as autumn exhales its last sweet breath to old man winter.