Leaves Falling

The wind is gentle here, the shape of the hill shielding us from the worst storms. As the wind comes through the valley it swirls and dances, forming tiny whirlwinds that scuttle over the grass. Leaves fall like painted snowflakes, gold from the heavens. A sky full of colour and movement, too lovely to seem properly real.

Slow to tumble, the leaves fall like feathers, turning and twirling towards a soft impact. As though a giant golden bird has flown by and released them. As though the sky is full of leaf tree birds shedding their feathers. As though a tree is a wing paused in motion, only revealing the feather nature of its leaves now autumn is here.

Amongst the fallen leaves, small birds and rodents practice their jumps and halting moves, sharp shifts as though they too are leaves blown by the wind. Feathers pretending to be leaves pretending to be feathers.

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About Nimue Brown

Druid, author, dreamer, folk enthusiast, parent, wife to the most amazing artist -Tom Brown. Drinker of coffee, maker of puddings. Exploring life as a Pagan, seeking good and meaningful ways to be, struggling with mental health issues and worried about many things. View all posts by Nimue Brown

2 responses to “Leaves Falling

  • lornasmithers

    This is a gorgeous piece of evocative writing 🙂 I love the ‘leaf tree birds’.

  • John Davis

    Ah yes….a true poetic insight. It’s much the same up here on the East Yorkshire coast. There’s a subtle change in the light, the sun rises much farther to the south now and doesn’t climb as high….the sea looks different; if you didn’t live here, you wouldn’t notice the change. I’m so lucky to live in this liminal place where water meets the land….John /l\

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