October 4th, 2009


First Full Moon of Autumn

The air is as crisp as a fall apple, but not sweet. Fireplaces have been lit and night smells of smoke. Fallen leaves lie silent since the evening breeze stilled. Lit by the full moon, they make the ground seem tattered. The year wears away like old lace, dusty and yellowed with age. Nobody to mend it.

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