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Sitting in my car at the stoplight waiting to race towards another, a slight flutter of yellow attracts my impatient eye. In the center of cranberry, pumpkin and russet robed trees, a crown of golden leaves gracefully brushes the air. Each leaf splotch hangs against the sky for a mere second then meanders its way toward a soft fall bed. I wish I could stand under the spray of leaves, drops of yellow falling on my hair and nose, my arms and my shoes, until, finally I meld into her canvas. Instead, I race towards the green, cursing gray skies and forgotten umbrellas.
0
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Gota De Chuva
Sitting in my car at the stoplight waiting to race towards another, a slight flutter of yellow attracts my impatient eye. In the center of cranberry, pumpkin and russet robed trees, a crown of golden leaves gracefully brushes the air. Each leaf splotch hangs against the sky for a mere second then meanders its way toward a soft fall bed. I wish I could stand under the spray of leaves, drops of yellow falling on my hair and nose, my arms and my shoes, until, finally I meld into her canvas. Instead, I race towards the green, cursing gray skies and forgotten umbrellas.
"A gentle rain of fall leaves sparks a moment of inspiration to a passerby."
henry-alexander
Written by
Australian
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
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