My Book of Poetry and Prose

The Rise of Autumn

 You can still remember your last swim. The sun was shining, hot and bright with the water droplets glistening from the scorching sun's rays. The children's screams were heard from every house in the green neighborhood, echoing throughout. A few days pass; students are hurrying, trying to buy their school supplies before it's too late. Summer's fading. Leaves are changing. The world is turning. Autumn has arrived.

 As you walk through the dimly-lit forest, you can see the world in a different light. The leaves are no longer vibrant, loud, and green. They're in muted shades of reds, yellows, and oranges. Some are still hanging onto the limb for dear life; others have dried out and let go, falling to the ground. Brittle leaves embellish the canvas, made of soil and grass, like beads on a dress. Crunching and crackling under your feet, the leaves turn into smithereens that ride the next breeze that chills the skin and hits the bones. Taking a seat at a tree stump, you hear the faint sound of a call. A mother is pleading her son to return, but he already joined the herd above migrating to warmer areas. The sky is dotted with translucent clouds, hiding the sun with their vast glory. The sun, hidden behind the clouds, is still able to cast its rays, peeking through the veils.

Paradise.

                Standing up, you exit the forest, leaving behind a trail of broken leaves, twigs, and wilting flowers. A transition that only takes a couple of days, the world clamps summer shut. Green is gone, replaced by a palette of browns and reds. Leaves tumble down like the walls of Pompeii, decorating the ground with its ruins. Birds migrate through the cloud puffs to reach a warmer destination and escape the harsh winds. The greyness of autumn balances out summer's lightness, and the world revolves, switching between light and dark, summer and autumn.