wildcat

Fall.

Music for the eyes

A silent symphony

Of orange and red

Of yellow and brown

Releasing the land of its color in a million different ways

The tune is mesmerizing.

My friend mentioned she was sad to see the leaves drop. She said this as if the shedding oak trees were a disgrace to her. As if their nakedness wasn’t breathtaking in the eyes of an artist.

Even though

They tried their best

They were always left

At a crossroads.

Glancing in either direction

With a confused expression

And a typical look

Of regret.

Because times are rough

In the crisp embrace of my russet leaf patch, 
a Queen Bee reigns supreme, Her presence unmatched. 
Her saintly swarm rustles me, yet I am blessed, 
for She brings forth the chilly scent of ember rest.