Autumn Whispers

Autumn

A shiver runs up my spine, a cold breeze envelops my hair, blowing it here and there. The cool, crisp clean air fills my lungs, as clouds fly past the sun. As I exhale, I watch as the air attempts to fog, no it’s not cold enough for that yet. I get to wait a while longer for that, thankfully.

I stretch my arms into the air and try to hug the wind, but she blows right through my fingertips. The rustle of the leaves blowing by catches my attention, I see reds, oranges, and yellows as they glide weightlessly down the street. Twisting, turning, jumping and leaping as they travel with the wind, the sound of millions of tiny footsteps fill the air. Down at my feet I watch the leaves as they attempt to evade my upcoming path, my boots crunch down on their helpless carcasses as I continue on.

Dancing and twisting in a ballet to an unknown song, the few leaves that remain in the trees put on one last show before joining their siblings in the wind. Overhead they dangle down like a multi colored chandler hung for the whole world to see.  


I close my eyes and listen to birds; they know the cold is coming. Tweets, chirps, and squawks swarm within my mind; I hear their wings beating a mile a minute overhead. In the trees leaves have been replaced with their little tiny colorful bodies. The colors of the birds are far more glorious than the green that once hung in their stead.

Small little animals scamper by me, as they make their final preparations for the cold days to come. Little squirrels pack their cheeks full of acorns before retreating to their homes to empty them and start again. I hear the hoot of the Great Horned owl as the sun begins to set; he too is looking for a meal. Hurry along little squirrel before he swoops down to take you for one last flight.

The darkness comes faster now but I welcome it, as I am enveloped in its glory. The birds have gone to sleep, perched in the branches of the barren trees as the squirrels continue to dodge the threats of predators from up above them.

Sounds surround my ears as my eyes loose their usefulness. These sounds would be fine in the light of day but with the night they hold an eerie resounding noise. Voices, whispers, giggles, and screeches call out to me from all around luring me further into the darkened void, but I know they are not real. At least I think they are not real.

Branches reach toward me with the aid of the wind; they tap me on my shoulder then simply disappear. They like to toy around and play after the night has fallen. For it is the trees that whisper and giggle, because they know that we would never suspect them of playing tricks on us.

This is autumn, full of wonders and surprise, scents of apple and pumpkin pie, cinnamon candies on the tongue. This is fall and I just wish that it would last through out the year.