Everything is gold.
The trees above my head are bright as the sunlight,
Which filters down through the gaps in the leaves.
The ground under my feet is completely covered by the fallen,
And with every step a crisp rustle-crunch rings out.
The winter birds are calling,
The branches whisper-creak in the breeze,
And the music of autumn flows throughout nature.
It’s a soft song,
Whispers and creaks and rustles.
Nature’s very own lullaby.
It’s time for sleep,
For hibernating and migrating and settling in to wait.
For curling up somewhere warm
And letting nature sing you to sleep.
Whisper rustle creak.
It’s cold beneath the tree tops,
But so beautiful.
The wind blows again and loose leaves fall.
Fluttering to the ground as golden rain.
Drifting and spinning and falling down to the earth.
Over the winter they’ll turn to dirt,
And come spring those leaves will fuel the world’s rebirth.
But for now they sit, bright and gold and crisp,
Sitting quiet for now, until someone like me comes along;
Then it’s rustle-crunch, rustle-crunch,
Marking my path with Autumn’s music.