A Scene Upon the Knoll

The cool breeze plays across my face and hair as the sun warms my body. The old creaking oak behind me sways and swishes in time to the symphony of birds playing together in sky above me. Even the leaves share secrets with each other as they slowly dwindle down towards the ground at my feet. Oh the feeling of autumn, how it plays through every glade in the land like a silent page delivering the news of winter across the kingdom. It simply cannot be defined as anything but glorious now that the suppressive heat has passed by and we can relax against the fear of heat stroke. Of course, there is always the chance that autumn brings with it a certain silliness such as falling in creeks, slipping on leaves or catching influenza even before the nights freeze with frost. Right now I can currently see a canidate for a case of autumn silliness as a little boy dances across the stones scattered throughout the bubbling brook just down the grassy slope from me. He giggles with delight before - ah yes, there it is - slipping on a rather mossy rock and falling face first into the water. Well at least his older sister is there to mop him up and take him home. So the glorious day continues as I sit here rather like a lump upon the landscape and just be carried off with all the activities and festivities around me. But as I feel the honey warmed sun now caressing my face, my eyes cannot but droop with the laziness that is carried by the autumn breeze. Alas I slowly drifted off into a world ruled by the season of autumn in which every creature is happy and content with their lives...

The Cruel Forest

What a cruel forest. The area is devoid of life. Small eddies of wind carry the star-shaped leaves to the ground in a spiralling motion. It is as if a plague of fire runs through the forest as flashing splashes of orange, yellow, red and brown flow down around me. Some say this forest tells stories, others say it deceives those that speak to it and all believe it tries to lure its prey in before sending them on a journey of never-ending twists and turns between the countless trunks. They say that if you listen really closely to the swirling patterns of wind and leaves, you can hear the cry of past victims. The air was still warm from the receding summer, the day the forest took me. Ever since, the leaves are the only beings that have kept me company as they crackle under my shoes. They tease me with stories of escape and freedom before the cool breeze picks them up and takes them away. It is indeed a very cruel forest.

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