Tag Archives: leaves
Golden tresses wave in the pale sunlight. Fire colours flicker – red, yellow, orange. Leaves slowly burning, their tiny flames fanned by the bitter winter wind.
It shines through skeletal leaves. Tinged pink and orange, they glow like Christmas lights. An early morning light show penetrates the frost.
It stretches out its branches against the frosty winter sky. At the end of each, there hangs a bundle of dropping leaves; dry-brown tears mourning the end of Autumn.
They sweep across the road. A startled hedge is caught in them, leaves glowing a ghostly silver. They move on, relentlessly searching out all who cross their path.
Its concrete structure towers above the busy motorway. The people seem unreal, shadow puppets silhouetted against the brightness of the sky. They pass over it like autumn leaves, insubstantial and soon forgotten.
Bright pink flowers burst with life. Consummate showmen, they zing against the grey of the rain-soaked window. Tight buds wait in the wings beneath the dark green leaves, ready for their cue to enter.
Thick green leaves with red veins like arteries. A red stalk leading down to black, bulbous heads. Pulled from the earth and deposited here, they shed soil onto the cardboard beneath them. Inside dwells sweet red flesh, and juice which … Continue reading
Heart-shaped leaves and spindly tendrils have taken over. They spread themselves up the wall and around the window like an invading force. At intervals, blue flower spikes shoot out, firework-like against the green.
Unruly leaves are carefully shorn; brambles cut off in their prime. An end of summer haircut reminds us that Autumn is near.