A few Autumn images...

They look like small twigs branching off from sticks, not witch's fingers. Nor do they resemble black lace or a tangle of neuronal nerves. They are not like veins of capillaries though obviously part of the same evolutionary design. They teach us cadence, grace and survival.

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Who could ever tire of the wind in the trees?
The wind blows leaves off the trees that are not already bare.

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A day of snapping of inner winds, turbulences, furies,
but all subtly, hidden.

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Glum takes hold, and I shake it off like dead leaves falling from trees.
Seedpods, broken leaf veins, dried stalks.