Photo by Autumn Mott Rodeheaver on Unsplash
Reds, yellows, and browns
Plucked by the brisk Autumn breeze
Spin down to the ground.
About the Creator
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More stories from Josh Ripperger and writers in Poets and other communities.
When the Shelter Closes
Across the street from my house, a man slept under a tree, his dog by his side. My first, naive thought: he must be traveling through. But he kept coming back, often sleeping there during the day. Then it hit me—that person might not have a home.
By Bride of Sound5 days ago in Humans
Comments (2)
Oooo, I love the idea of the leaves plucked by the breeze!
I love the imagery of autumn colored, crispy confetti!