To Notice an End.

The wind blows from western hills, lifting death from the plains overlain by leaves and twisting them gently in the air. Autumn in cyclones invigorate the eyes, coloring the brown earth in hues of golden end. It is all cherished, by every man and woman who steps past their door and waits for the sight to flow around. Change has come, and for the patient and appreciative all the hidden secrets of life are seen in the cascading colors fluttering on the breeze. No limbs can hold tight to that which must be released; and bare are the trees who flourish as they come to rest. Though the leaves have perished, it is known death only takes away the visage of life, beneath which remains the heart and truth of the world that all remains for the next cycle to begin. As the pronounced elegance comes to its season, we see a world of splendor and wait for the whitest to cover this plane. How short it all seems.