In the garden the ghost of summer clings to the last roses that bloom. It is warm. Flocks of black birds fill the air and sometimes wild geese. Starlings are flying in from far away and bring with them a stir of cold air and an echo of snow on their dark breasts speckled with white.
On the path up the hill a moss covered stone marked the spot where a bird's song ended. Sparrowhawk leaves little but soft feathers behind after a swift kill.
On top of the hill the sky glowed and our fur shone like a setting sun. Autumn will pass swiftly into winter this year.
3 comments:
Oh, I feel a little melancholy now. Those are very beautiful roses.
Hope you don't mind, but I just HAD to include you on my "You Make Me Smile" list. I (as well as my kitties--Missy and Annie) come visit you nearly every day. We so enjoy your posts that we just had to share with our other blog friends! If you have a moment, and do care to play, please drop by for a visit...
Many Thanks
Geenger Darleen's: my Gard. I though' the only asseptable colour to be was blagh, como yo. Bod I hab to admeet you are preeedy goo' lookeen'. An' your blarg looghs sospiciouslee lighe the blarg ob my Meesers, who ees also Geenger.
I loogh forwar' to readeen' more abou' you.
Your new Admirer
Don Estorbo della Bodega Dominicana
Pee ess Onfortunadely I hab to sign een weeth the Google accound ob my Meesers, bod, trost me, thees ees MY Commend...
Estorbito
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