Death of Summer

Falling into the leaves I see death. Things are dying all around and yet the sun is like a dragon breathing life into the landscape and bombarding my senses... All of my senses are in overdrive! My sense of smell is tantalized by the wafting smoke of campfires. I open my mouth and taste the creamy roasted marshmallow that is almost melting off the end of my stick. Visually I embrace the vibrant array of colors - canary-yellow, navel-orange, brilliant reds and terracotta colored leaves, some being strewn about by the wind and some hanging on for dear life to the timbers that nurtured their existence. Standing motionless in the forest the only sound I hear is the crispy crunch of leaves and snapping of brittle twigs. This orchestra created by the scurrying about of squirrels. Inferior creatures searching in earnest for a place to bury their sustenance for the upcoming winter. Though the surrounding splendor ignites my senses and death is all around, it causes no fear. The death of summer is inevitable as it gives birth to fall, a smorgasbord for my senses.