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Showing posts from April, 2021

Autumn

The leaves of summer turn crimson, ochre, brown. Leaves softly flutter, dance float gently to the ground.  The morning air so crisp, brisk, cool. Children ramble, meander saunter blissfully toward school. The reveries of summer gone, faded lost. Replaced with the veracities of school, work preparation for the first frost.  Harvest moon shining, vibrant bright. Days grow shorter, decrease diminish into a cool dark night. The icy north wind blows, blusters calls. Beckoning Winter's advent, appearance arrival as the last golden leaf falls.  Linda Brailean 2001