Walk out the door. The wind lifts yours hair and brushes your cheeks, painting them cool. The sun above warms your head if you lift your face to feel the last of the heat in a hot fudge Sunday of sensation.
Each guffaw and gust spills leaves. They chase and tease a game of tag with scuffling, old paper sounds. Mangos, limes and persimmons have been swept into a glorious salad. Russet, burgundy and golden twinkles in tornadoes, sweeping down streets and through lanes covering paths with color.
The growing seasons of spring and summer escape from their tree cages as you walk, shuffling through color from pastel to gem, from dying to living. Autumnal majesty blesses us and pays homage to each season. Soon the earth rests.