When night awakes sooner,
and the stars become brighter,
Fall descends onto the land.
Soon enough, winter will bring its false sand,
until then, the leaves paint the sky-
as the trees and wind begin to sigh.
There’s a slight chill to the air,
as clouds peer down at the land without a care.
Fall dances with life and death,
as it slowly kills the once green leaves.
With this new death, it’ll bring new life.
Fall gently whisks away the last of Summer’s-
gentle warmth from the land, preparing-
the animals for the winter that’s raging-
on the horizon, bringing its cold.
Fall paints the landscape beautifully,
throwing yellows, oranges, and reds onto-
the portrait it’s trying to paint, bold-
blues and purples paint the horizon,
as the sun begins to quickly set,
showing the eager stars, as they glow.
Fall paints the chilly breeze in misty grays-
as it knows the morning fog will paint-
the land in a ghostly pale white curtain,
that’ll haunt the mornings until Fall,
always the selective artist, is satisfied with its art.
Posted in response to the challenge Fall: Writing.