Autumn
The air is cooling, a torrent of nostalgia and hope, disconsolate breaths, echoes of sighs and whispers. Touch the velvet decadence of sumach, the curled, browned beauty of dessicated Queen Anne’s lace, the teasels and burrs in their sculptural perfection. Yellows appear, a million wistful browns, but also fiery reds, fervent burgundies, thick and saturated as garnets and wine. The skies observe impassively, so often colourless now in their lush showcase of greys. Spring gets…