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I must wax poetical once more on the joys of the changing leaves. The trees are turned to flame, and even the river's colour seems to have deepened.
The air drifting in my patio door is sweet with the echo of summer, fresh mowed lawn, and replete with the starting of autumn drying leaves. The winds music in the tree tops has turned from rock band, to a more classic mode, the wind seems to whisper through the branchs, instead of beating them.
Even the rains have gentled, misting instead of pouring.
Aww the glories of the turning season.
 SunBunni · Sat Oct 06, 2007 @ 08:04pm · 1 Comments |
