By Savannah

In Autumn the trees lose their leaves as the days lose their light. as I jump onto a pile of old leaves they crunch and they crumble into tiny pieces like broken glass lying on the ground.

The wind paints the horizon with trees so gold, an artist in his work gentle yet bold, the motionless trees, like a frozen lake. The sweet aroma of orange pumpkin pie wafting out from the cottage windows.

The days so long as if time has froze, the leaves keep falling, it’s like winter except with snow.