reds and yellows rustle in the breeze
dangling so brilliantly, daintly above me
the colorful landscape reflects in my eyes
towering against the dull gray september sky
like a giant paintbrush waiting to swipe the canvas
the maple waits.
And then…. the east wind blows
leaf stalks that held so tight through so many winds bid farewell
the sky becomes a living watercolor, an abstract of nature
the most accomplished artist of them all.
and the winds die
colors flutter, twisting and turning, tumbling to the earth
the most perfect leaf lights on my shoulder, crimson red on all five lobes
I smell the fall, I smile
and the wind blows.The Wind Blows
September 28, 2012 by Leave a Comment
reds and yellows rustle in the breeze
dangling so brilliantly, daintly above me
the colorful landscape reflects in my eyes
towering against the dull gray september sky
like a giant paintbrush waiting to swipe the canvas
the maple waits.
And then…. the east wind blows
leaf stalks that held so tight through so many winds bid farewell
the sky becomes a living watercolor, an abstract of nature
the most accomplished artist of them all.
and the winds die
colors flutter, twisting and turning, tumbling to the earth
the most perfect leaf lights on my shoulder, crimson red on all five lobes
I smell the fall, I smile
and the wind blows.
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