The ‘Fall’ diaries

Fall (season) in all its glory,

humming the past summer story.

Orange leaves, mud-laden roads,

the smell of spiced pumpkin soup

but the trees age,

withered and hoary.

—xxx—

Always so bewitching,

to see the changing shades of nature.

Migrating birds, hibernating animals,

jaded eyes, weary demeanor;

all seemingly caught

in the act of caricature.

—xxx—

The land will be shrouded soon

by a white serape.

The trees sore,

yearn and mourn;

a veil of leaves

will cover their bark no more.

—xxx—

The last glimpse of tan,

the last song of harvest,

the last luncheon under the sun,

before the grey skies settle again,

the colours fade away and the monochromes reign.

—xxx—

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