As winter edges closer
the woods become rust and grey.
Only the sound of one’s own footsteps
mulching leaves
interrupts the silence.
Where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry.
Where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry.
As winter edges closer
the woods become rust and grey.
Only the sound of one’s own footsteps
mulching leaves
interrupts the silence.
the photo is really so or has been changed, like
It has not been altered. Thanks for stopping by.
bellissima foto
love this!
Nice capture
Love the photo as well as your prose.
Lovely. I can never understand people who consider fallen leaves a nuisance.
Love that photo, fantastic colours
Reblogged this on Voices and Visions.
I like the way you adjusted the tree trunks color.
I love autumn 🙂
great subject and colours!
Beautiful photo and such a lovely description.
wonderful poetry
Thanks for stopping by my blog. I love your photography. Shows such a deep appreciation of nature and a different eye of looking at things. Beautiful!
🙂
there is a peace in this photo that relaxes the soul beebeesworld
Thanks for liking my post. This is a beautiful photo and poem.
And now a breezy day, to hear the leaves flutter. Nice poem and picture
Hi. I like this poem very, very much. You can ‘hear’ the footsteps ‘interrupting’ the silence. Jane
Lovely indeed, are they silver birches. Must check where in the world you are. Thank you for the lovely photos and verses.
The colors are really lvely
very nice…the blue and orange make for good contrast