Autumn’s land

Nothing could be seen beyond the water’s edge except distant shapes of brush and lanky trees as the fog clung tightly to the brume lake, its body veiling this arcane place from the rest of the world.

Autumn’s sweet breath chills the sleepy land: docile and humble, somnolent. The once vibrant, green leaves now turned a gentle orange and curling in on themselves, falling down to the teeming dirt below.

The sidewalks are never dry anymore and the constant shadow of rain looms above in thick clouds, the smell of tainted earth fills the air, animals hurry to prepare and people wrap up in thick coats and scarves, protecting themselves from the never ending bite.

The season's supples wings stretch out and claims the land till its frigid cousin comes, cupping us in rough hands and protecting its land. We know not of what it truly desires but we know one thing, this is now cloy Autumn's land.