Autumn is the prelude to the gray of winter, the last breath of color from a dying world.
On that breath, filled with the cold wisp of falling temperatures, is something vibrant and grand.
The last show.
The end of the fireworks.
The final display when everything goes off, erupting in color and the dry crackling, soft explosion of fallen leaves beneath running feet. Mantles and backdrops of yellow and red that color our Monday morning walks and our short-sleeved leaps into the cool afternoon air. Or, one last flight off the mountaintop, through a blue ocean of sky with a paraglider sail the color of a tropical banana.
Autumn's prelude for winter whispers of the coming world of black and white.
A final shout goodbye to wheels of change, with colors high.
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