Have you noticed the leaves? They're changing color. Falling, softly. Making a winter's blanket for mother earth. Have you counted the colors, noticed how they mix and match? What about the wind? Like a band leader, he provides melody for dancing. Up. Up. Similar music transcends. Sun and clouds show off their latest riffs. The forest's canopy crescendos, then a decrescendo glistens. Soft. Light.
On the drive to school we counted the colors, looked for yard decorations, and wondered about seasons. It's too early for Christmas music, but the sentiment's there. It's too late for rum, but the taste lingers like a phantom limb. I stand outside. Still. While the world turns.