Feuillemort

They creep up on us. The days of autumn. One moment, we are hot and sweaty with popsicle sticky all over the kids’ faces. But the nights come sooner and sooner. The crisp in the air deepens, beckoning us to an ancient beauty that lights up the sky in purple and gold. A precious sadness looking at the summer days behind. A painful joy looking at the winter days ahead.

You’ve felt it, haven’t you. The dead leaf that crinkles underneath your foot, releasing autumn scent as if to remind you there is still hope, even at the very end.

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