It was one of those days you sometimes get latish in the autumn when the sun beams, the birds toot, and there is a bracing tang in the air that sends the blood beetling briskly through the veins.
There is something so special in the early leaves drifting from the trees – as if we are all to be allowed a chance to peel, to refresh, to start again.
Days decrease, And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
For as long as she could remember, she had thought that autumn air went well with books, that the two both somehow belonged with blankets, comfortable armchairs, and big cups of coffee or tea.
And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days…
But frost, like the crystallised dreams of autumn, began to coat the clearing with its sugar glaze.
Don’t you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies.
Autumn is no time to lie alone.
No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.
Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard.
Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.
Or maybe spring is the season of love and fall the season of mad lust. Spring for flirting but fall for the untamed delicious wild thing.