Everyone is always telling me how they hate autumn because it means winter is coming. Autumn is wonderful. All the hues of red, yellow, and orange! If you ask me, it is a masterpiece. And in celebration of such an accomplishment by nature, I wrote this:

The wind whips through my hair as I fall onto the lush grass. It is still green, but soon, its colors will fade. The green will become dim, and slowly become a fatal brown. The trees are rustling, singing their faint season song, and I listen closely so I too can sing it. Even the leaves of the once strong trees are fading; from green to yellow, yellow to orange, and finally orange to red. A deep dark red that you only find in a painting. A type of red that is only seen once a year, and it is not worn by jolly old Saint Nick. Again the breeze blows, and I see geese flying off between the wisps of my hair that are lifted off the ground. A chill runs down my spine. But I am not frightened or cold, as are the senses that the chill tends to send. No, I am comfortable in a colorful paradise. I close my eyes in prayer, and wish on an unseen star for this Eden to never fade; but it must. Though I welcome you autumn, with open arms, and will hum to your faint season's song.