Tag Archives: fall
A blissful roll on my lap becomes a frantic scramble. Her body twists and turns, tail swishing. Inevitably, she hits the floor. Shaking her head, she begins to wash her paw self-consciously. Dignity must be upheld.
Caught by the back windscreen wiper, flattened against the blackened glass. It flutters gently as the car moves off. Yellowing with age, ripped from its tree by the autumnal fall, it gives its last display.
As the evening sunlight hits them, they begin to catch fire, like Icarus’ wings. They shed their green for the glowing orange, but their fall will not come until Autumn.