The sun travels lower in the sky, casing longer shadows even at mid day.
The days become noticeably shorter, colors start to dot the landscape
With each day the reds, oranges and yellows fill the horizon, until we’re ablaze in color
As the winds and rains come with the season, the colors float, sail, twist and fall
They blanket the ground, pile up where the wind cannot move them anymore.
It is the beauty of a season, a change from life and growth to rest and hibernation
VROOOOM go the gas engines, where are song of birds?, the call of geese as they fly south?
Snip – snip gardens cleaned, made nice and tidy, it doesn’t do to leave things as they are.
What was beauty one day, now there is this great need to remove it.
The greens that filled the forest, the browns that carpeted the lawns, now are in large brow bags waiting to be no more
What happen to the season, no evidence it ever existed, did it happen, are we sure?
It is as it was before, without the colors of life
Are we missing something?, more than a seasons’ passing