Fall greets the earth as summer slips quietly away.
The seasons are changing, as the leaves shift in color from Emerald Green and Chartreuse
to Russet Browns, antiques of their once fine grandeur,
though still splendid in their beauty.
The color of the leaves, as if painted by hand, so individually crafted.
With swirls of Orange and Coquelicot, the leaves fall as if they are gracing the earth the way a painter graces their canvas.
The air grows cooler, giving way to new glory, breezy winds that whisper, carrying undertones of what is to come.
The lakes feel the chill, and the creatures understand that the changing winds will soon give way to a glacial paradise, an icy oasis.
The changing of the season from summer to fall is one I look forward to,
for there is something in the change that brings back fond memories.
Days filled with love, days spent in front of the fire, snugly wrapped, watching the flames twirl and dance.
Days filled with wonder, days in which my life seemed to move along to a soft and gentle melody that only I could hear.
Days when I held to life, and it met me with grace.
Still now, when I feel the fall winds gently embracing my skin,
I feel the same wonder, and that old melody carries me away again.

-Rhia Clay

She gazed at the dazzling array of stars,
filled with awe and curiosity, cradling her aspirations while serving as a witness to the miracle of life, how a mere spark can evolve into an entire universe, a vast cosmos.
Nearby, a vigilant owl perched silently. Did it contemplate this enigma as well, she mused? Surely, the essence of meaning and wonder isn't exclusive to humanity, she reflected.
Surely, every creature feels the pulse of life within it, and the pull of the unknown.
As if responding to her unspoken question, the great barn owl hooted quietly and unfurled its mighty wings, soaring high into the sky, eager to discover what other marvels awaited it in its palace of trees.
Farewell, dear soul, she whispered gently; perhaps one day soon, I too will spread my wings, and fly away from this place.

-Rhia Clay

The sky spills liquid gold across the fields,
and every blade of grass hums a bright song,
ripples of honey laughter swim through the air,
as the trees burst into wild, kaleidoscopic blooms.

Clouds skip like stones across a sapphire lake,
the wind flutes silver melodies through the valley,
and the mountains wear crowns of glittering flame,
grinning, howling, singing at the top of their lungs.

The rivers are ribbons of melted stars,
the earth quivers with candy-colored sparks,
and hearts—oh, hearts!—
they pop like fireworks in a velvet sky,
sending ripples of giggling stardust everywhere.

Every breath tastes of spun sugar and sunlight,
every blink unwraps a prism of newborn wonder,
and my soul—my soul!—
is a thousand kites soaring, shrieking, bursting,
carried far beyond the hills of happiness.

Who are you? I ask

every time you pass by,

as I try my best to deny

that there is a version of you

whom I can never identify.

I think it will always remain a mystery to me,

regardless of how much time passes by.

Does it matter? U ask

every time i try to know more about you

as if no one asked you this before

as if it was very out of the blue

it makes me feel stupid

but i cannot help but wonder

why are you so restricted?

what kind of situations were u put under?

it is none of my business

i know that very well

but are u never curious?

about what people don't tell?