My view is muted to behold the black and white of late summer.
No white exists; green is the black.
Bright summer colors fall between the contrast of the summer’s eternal green.
No whites are detected, only a pop of pale pink, rich purple, and deep yellow.
The warm breeze has a cool shadow that whispers, “Autumn is on its way.”
The winds replaced the jovial children and perpetual waves.
A wind chime clangs to break through the strong breeze’s secrets.
A few leaves fall and dance across my path foreshadowing what is near.
Poetry 