The trees are bent double, wind clawing leaves from their arms
Flecks of gold dancing through your vision
Whirling and swirling in eddies and drifts
The hedgerows are rich with colour; gold and orange, red and green, brown and yellow
Leaves like confetti at a wedding, clogging the pathways, choking the drains
So that every passing stormcloud turns roads to rivers
The Mind of Tanitha 