The dancing pointed leaves, float quietly from the trees. Proud blooms tilt their faces, to face the all-day orange sun. The honey orange cloud duvet, embracing warmly, the sunset, contrasting starkly the light grey of the foregrounds rocky perfect. Seeing flame colored waning moon-like scales, their shapes glistening in the yellow day end. Shimmerimg sheer silky satin tails like sails, Floating like ribbons under the lights' bend. Tall trees yearn to bask in the copper rays, to bake their summer leaves to cacao clays. Growing up and up to shade the soil below, letting light scatter beneath the 'overgrow'. Rarely one will hear a agreed upon complaint, or sneer to its name or its name to taint. As this state of wonder called here - Autumn. This near perfect wonderland is well wanton. In the early months of every year, here in this Southern Hemisphere, these sights grace our tired eyes and calm weary, wandering minds. Of the green intertwining for seasons prior, that this matter is no longer for our ire. Who doesn't atleast devour this time of year? Sans true fire - the color of flames appear. As the leaves heave to dance as winds blew, to land, lose shape and nourish the new. We must surely enjoy this gifted view, before you feel the frost and morning dew.