100 words (more or less), writing

Changing Seasons

There is room to breathe now that the heat has subsided. The damp, earthy smell of autumn has come into the air and the chill of not-quite-frost laces the edges of the night. 

There is a shifting restlessness in the rustle of the leaves. Tree branches rattle, hollow, as though they are confirming to each other, “It’s almost time. Get ready.” Soon they will draw into themselves, crowns aflame, and sink into their roots. 

For me there is the anticipation of cool night breezes, hot tea, and falling into layers of blankets while crickets and katydids sing their subdued, late-summer songs.