As Summer Falls to Autumn
- Creative Writing to Inspire -

The late September’s day-shine was shadow-woven in the hush of Autumn-tide. As evening to daylight, as the quiet of early dusk, so Summer grew more  gentle-golden. As a bright song finding quieter keys, it played on each changing hue with operatic ease. Reds calmed to a mulberry-scarlet amid the first green-gold flutterings. The warm breeze cooled by the softest degrees. Each evening the sun yawned sooner and starry eyes freckled the black. Summer was almost a memory even as city life hurried on.

​

*******************

 

The light in Autumn’s early tide was a twilight-sigh, how it washed the foliage grey from sunrise to Noon’s high. Before any midsummer-eve would have dared sneeze, it dimmed by degrees until every sight shadow-soaked black. Be it day-shine or night, the blossoms had sung out their aromas and hues, their brilliance consigned to yesterday’s news. How the avenue’s trees caroled in colours of flame, a sight of long memory and yet never twice-same. My thoughts scampered to pumpkins, to coffee-shop chats, to the warm indoors, to my writing desk where my secret sits quietly. For you see the summer does not vanish yet dwells in my pen, ever waiting for Spring to call her name again.

 

*******************

​

Summer’s heat hushes to a memory, as the blue sky becomes a soft woolen grey. In Twilight’s cloak the shadows blend, as the cooler days come as a God-send. Perhaps that is why the birdsong starts to shine, as if it were extra soul-light supplied at the perfect time. Perhaps that is why the trees sing out hearth-hues, as if extra soul-warmth could put rhythm in our blues. As aroma’s of blooms linger in the air, it washes in as a saltless sea-mist so rare. If the summertime was frenetic flurry, the fall comes as comfort and self-care.

​

*******************

​

A facsimile of a cobbled street ‘twas the cloudy sky, a cool echo of  Summer’s tree-dapples that had graced lawns of bonny green. Yet that was two seasons hence, a sweet memory to fuel us on. Summer to autumn, autumn to winter had revolved, you see. All shook in his icy resolve, in that capricious wind so washed out - so dun, so dull, so dim. (2024)

​