Reflections from an Open Window
Linda Raha's Writing Corner
The autumn sky is a blue ocean, fathoms deep. The birds chatter and tell their stories to the silent, knowing trees. How stoic are the trees, how majestically they stand, as the birds fly from branch to branch. I watch as the leaves fall soundlessly to the ground, one by one, a steady drift of
The fog hangs heavy in the early morning light. What a lovely canvas for this soft mist - a painter's dream. The leaves lie dormant upon the ground, mostly burnt sienna, but some, lemon yellow. I search to find a scarlet leaf, but there are none to be found; nor, is there a cardinal anywhere
Once again, the seasons are changing; these autumnal days remind us that we are changing too, each and every day. The trees are about to put on their biggest pageant of the year, changing from summer's garb to fall's most exquisite wardrobe. There will be luminous gold leaves to don the trees, magnificent burgundies, the