Flirting with the last of the sunlight, Autumn let down her leaves so that his gold rays catch the shivers of red in her stems, the last bursts of life. Thus, Auburn was born, a color to remind us that there was life in the papery rasp underfoot.
She didn’t mind the auburn hey, grateful for its protection. Nor did she object to her plain, brownish plumage, a cozy mantle. She only had eyes for were her two hopes. One dark-yellow she nicknamed Aurum, the other off-white, nicknamed Albus.
Easter was behind.
I love that sinking feeling that comes with seeing the leaves falling. Death may be unavoidable, but until then life still goes on and Autumn surely knows how to make the most of it.
When I think of Autumn I think of acorns. Of my childhood. I would go with my father and collect them for school.
Acorns are symbolic for strength, youthfulness.
Acorns are Forever.