row_boat_writer (United States) published:
Leaves crinkle into a thousand storms.
Where the noise is too loud.
Then everything stops.
Wind takes it's place.
The smell of autumn fills are senses.
Does time die?
We can hope.
When all seems lost, I notice--
I notice the laughters.
The dances from the ritual suns.
The cheers of drunken men.
This is when the noise gets quiet.
6 months ago