Autumn

I strolled through the piles of bright orange leaves, covering the ground like a golden carpet, illuminated by the few strings of sun that managed to reach through the shadows of the branches. The cool breeze rustled the canopies of the towering trees and carried birdsong through the forest. I never really managed to spot the birds, it was as if they were ghosts amid the shadow, just the pure sound of their souls remaining, heard among the quiet rustle. From now and then, a falling leaf imitated the flight of a finch, being picked up by the breeze, that now smelt of autumn, and eventually landing onto the golden heaps. The forest breathed, hummed and glistened with fall.