Fall 55

Clouds strolled by
on the wings of wind.
Dark gray on a background of pewter
with the occasional shimmer
of silver or blue.
Cold stopped the sap
from flowing through the veins
of deciduous leaves
ripping the blue
from their spectrum
and leaving only
the fires of yellow,
orange and red
to warm Fall’s chill.

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This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55.

If you want to know what the hell that means visit g-man.
The challenge is on.

Or come back on Sunday to try my Sunday 160.

If you can fill a text message, you can do this.