Walking to my bus stop on a fall morning. The sun paints the tips of the conifers and has fully reached the deciduous trees at the end of the street, which are distant but brilliant. A golden wood, smiling, at the end of the road.
Making my way to the climbing gym on a cloudy day after school, the sky is brewing. The green leaves hold onto summer amongst the yellow browns that announce fall. Some leaves have already descended. Will rain soon follow? It will smell like soggy leaves and electricity.
The window faintly reflects the image of the other side of the bus. Public transit brings me home, and brings home to me
The clouds hang over the city, a smear of smoky pastel, a small break in the yellow line leads to the garden, one part dark forest, two parts falling leaves
The sun peaks out of the clouds and the buildings cast shadows on each other. A wave catches the light, and warm wood bobs below the sea of blue and grey.
Clouds layered behind the bare branches. Patches of sky and clouds look like sparse foliage, hanging onto the dark twigs. The green leaves of the bushes below climb up from the dying grass, appearing to scale the fence and trunks. It’s a warm winter’s day, a false fall.
Below ground level, surrounded by cement, its structure reinforced by metal, the outside green and sun morphed by thick glass, winking at me, daring me to skip school just to spend some time with them