autumn

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It is autumn, and on increasingly shorter final. The sun has upset chased thick clouds almost black. Evening weight sits over the forest numb. Pure pride month, this time a pale yellow outline, retains a dose of optimism. Too weak to dissipate heat, thanks to shine a light vigil dense darkness of the forest. Cold surround trees and gather them down like in some webbing. The trunks of trees, almost frozen to feel and grind, as if clenched jaws. At ground level, a long whir like a ghost haunting, followed by a cold wind of late autumn. A pile of dry leaves is left to chance and is scattered in all directions, like snowflakes. In the darkness of the forest, the leaves look like shadows that float in the middle of heavy seas. Woods consisting of old trees, some secular, is accustomed to such weather. He saw the years have passed and great things. Younger people are impressed at the noise but autumn night. Bend left and right, and moving out noise-like groans. Their branches, green and resilient opponent may not oppose wind. Incessant groaning of the struggles and deserted. The overall atmosphere is one of grief and sorrow felt by the entire forest is nature.