Gold crests the leaves
Silver crests the waters
Bronze crests the sturdy, perfect bridge
Rippling rapids breach my ears
The birds chirp with beauty
The crunch of brittle autumn leaves stirs the chipmunk to a scurry
The mist brushed my face with a soft wind
My face warmed with the rays of the sun
To a crisp burn
I smell the apple cider and the autumn air
As the summer turns to fall
And the leaves dance from the trees
Like the running water beneath me
But when the leaves meet the ground they never return to their branch
The gold falls and withers and turns to dust
