Autumn waits with bated breath
for the north wind to rustle the leaves from the trees
after painting hues of crimson and gold
on their frail bodies before they make their final descent,
blanketed in billowy white at winter’s arrival.
Autumn waits with bated breath
for the north wind to rustle the leaves from the trees
after painting hues of crimson and gold
on their frail bodies before they make their final descent,
blanketed in billowy white at winter’s arrival.
