Death. But like, not in a sad way.

Dark ash colored horses

Crisp early hours

Blots of tiny yellow flowers

Gracious sun

Half and half tinted trees

Completed summer photo albums

Damp leaf smell

Comfortable rolled down windows

Powerline converse in front of middle schools

Multiplied migration

Bursts of morning peeking through blinds

Tired teapots

Blush of mountain faces crimson, amber and saffron.

Decomposition’s promise

Paving the way for renewal

Death. But like, not in a sad way.

All of my love,

Nicole