Autumno

It was autumn. Nature waved her golden pastels against those dying leaves once again. How beautiful a morning as this. How quietly reflective a time: Autumn. 

That crisp and cool breeze brushed those golden leaves. They rattled and swayed as the wind passed by. "Hello" they said. "Good bye" they said. 

How hazy is Autumn's beautiful dusk. That radiant sun dulling it's eyes to the earth's flesh. It's love shimmering through the transparency of a fallen stem. The shadows begin to grow whole and full; giving the colors a greater throne of majesty.

And there the sound. Not of nature but of machine. It's pattern filled with glee. One quick pump after another. The sound of thin black tires kissing the orange painted pavement. The peddler rides slowly down a lonely street.

He is as the autumn. Quiet and reflective yet radiant in display. His eyes were in focus and his heart was at peace. 

Yet he was dying. 

Slowly