Dead leaves swarmed as machiavellian cabal, fervent in the first foment of winter. As eager accomplice wind was sangfroid, patient, observing, selecting the time most sublime to savour a spot of obloquy. What a delicious coup! What sweet cultural sedition! Encipher true order, subvert expectations, observe a state of meticulous alertness! Between leaves, wind and chill it was impossible to explain the instinct all betook for caution. For time out of mind not a soul could recall a case of late fall so sinister.
The fall came as a welcome summer canopy, a dalliance of dappled weathers and peek-a-boo aromas.
Fall reflections in the sidewalk, in that tarmac-mirror art, softening those neon lights to rainbows in the dark.
Upon umber leaf, beneath cloud coddled skies, the aroma of the fall comes in earthen solemn grace.
From deepest ebony to melodic umber hues, from cream softened oranges to the greens that mature into a sea-spun sage - the fall has arrived and is as welcome as a long remembered song.
Not with the chaos of a storm, yet the kind of chaos of free dance, of joyful leaps of arms outstretched, comes the fall to take Earth's stage.
Upon the generosity of fall rain, pebbles jostle in clear streams, each as if perched upon a catwalk pew and the show of the millennia about to begin.
A community of hues waves aloft upon fall trees, the heart seeing more colours than any clerk could ever name.
In spring and summer we marvel at leaf and bloom, yet come fall we are in awe at the humble root and branch.
It is not the umbrella that I love each fall, yet the rain that falls around.