Autumn

The dying leaves on the deciduous trees mark the start of autumn. I trudge along the well-worn footpath, which is almost completely hidden by a sea of burnt orange cast-offs and mud. Maple trees hug the footpath as far as the eye can see. My eyes fixate on the sun’s rays, glimmering through the towering, intertwined branches, dancing upon everything they touch whilst illuminating the clearing, almost as an afterthought. A slight breeze unleashes a hazy, crisp storm of leaves that descend around me. Effortlessly; an energetic gust of wind elevates and then disperses them in a seemingly chaotic manner.