Les Feuilles Mortes

Walking betwixt the cascading rain of assorted hues that only a brisk Fall day can conjure, I can't help but lament of other Autumns past. Frosty days that were painted with the colors of mahogany, crimson, copper and goldenrod..falling leaves all accomplishing their last floating-dance-on-the-wind to terra firma.  Busy were the rotund bushy-tailed squirrels hiding away their found acorn treasures, while I admired the shape of a leaf gifted from the same oak tree. Raked in to a funeral pyre, the shin-deep demise of the leaves do bequeath one last contribution, though: the much-anticipated smoky aroma of the season. In this magical transition, nature inspires us by taking pause; seen oh so clearly through the rolling fog.

 ©2011 Debbie Ballard