something about autumn called to her
(a deep primal pull)
maybe it was the way the wind
(invited)
as biting as in the winter months
(insistent)
was softened by the warm colors all around
(a purposeful caress)
maybe it was the colors themselves
(dancing)
colors that transported her
(to distraction)
into a world of fantastical tranquility
(everything and nothing)
she suspected
however
(enticing as everything may be)
that it had something to do with
(nothing)
the transient nature of the season
(or fleeting everything)
almost over before you notice it's begun
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