I make a right turn down Condor Avenue with my shoulders held high near my exposed neck and my hands shoved deep into my pockets.

Fall is an oversimplification, I think.  What is more profound and specific than that perfect feeling of subtle grit and immersive depth than fall?  How can a whole season capture that infinitesimal glimpse into- what?  Wh

When I was growing up, I lived in a state of confusion. The state that I lived in had autumn, like all the rest, but never seemed to know it; that, in turn, confused me.

Autumn is when you left

and the feelings inside of me were storm clouds,

each drop of rain an emotion

Sadness

Relief

Fear

Autumn is my release

Feet pounding on leaf scattered trails

Autumn –

the fall of old things before new

tips of green tinged golden brown with decay

catching the sun on shining edges

I fall 

    Down 

             Down

                       Down

Land on grass

In autumn's gentle sigh, leaves cascade,

A tapestry of gold and red, nature's parade.

The air grows crisp, with whispers of change,

As life retreats, in colors so strange.

Amidst the house of autumn's hue,

A season's tale unfolds, both old and new,

Where leaves descend in a graceful dance,

In nature's fleeting, bittersweet romance.

 Marigold’s smiles are all worthwhile

        she likes to dabble in heartache

Unbeknownst to the unabated

         vigor is not shined upon but fated

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.

Fall.

Fall is about transition