You are magic.
The spell you cast causes a canon of dancing leaves to fall from the trees, down to earth where they lay like embers from the fire of summer.
Bright days transform like a switch to dark nights best spent under a blanket with a book and a cup of tea.
The cool, crisp air fills my lungs with a sense of purity. My breath feels new. The hot pressure of summer feels lifted. It’s a new start.
I feel the crunch of the leaves beneath my feet. The leaves that, come spring will have sunk back into the earth, ready to nourish the tree once more from which it fell.
Without the sorcery of autumn the dawn of spring would be fruitless.
Autumn is selfless. Autumn serves by sacrifice.
Autumn does not mourn for its loss of leaves, daylight or warmth. Autumn gives freely to the earth, for it knows that its magic will ultimately impel new life.
Sometimes you have to lose in order to grow.
Until next time,