Show us in 300 words or less
I'm in love with the fall. Cool mornings followed by warm afternoons. The air smells clean, freshly laundered. Scented with hints of burnt leaf. As much as I love that smell, we don't burn leaves here.
Those unburned leaves are colored in the shades of the fire from which they were spared. They rush across the lawn, blown by playful gusts. Some take flight, reaching for the branches they recently left. Some are content to somersault across the fading grass.
They migrate from our yard to the neighbor's, only to return in a day or so. They'll pile themselves around the flowers and shrubs. Protecting the tender roots from winter's cold.
I hear them crackling whispers to each other of summer past. Before the rains pin them to the gardens. Before the colors of glory fade to brown. Before winter's snow buries them with icy weight. They blanket the sleeping plants singing lullabies of spring.