Cold nights creep into the early light of morning with the promise of fall colour made tangible. Vibrancy rules under grey skies, a reminder that though everything at some point is going to die, that is no reason not to put on a glorious show.
The green recedes like spring in reverse, as blooms shed their petals, floral breadcrumbs to show winter how to get home. Sleepy flies stumble across the threshold by accident, find temporary resurgence by the heat of a barely lit woodstove (it’s just practicing at this point), realize the folly of their actions, then let go.
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