The lone leaf loosed the grasp
of its wooden perch
and drifted slowly to their feet.
as the evening’s chill
sucked the last warmth
from the day,
they felt the shift to Fall
in the full moon’s cool illumination,
the smell of drifting fireplace smoke
and the haunting hoots of an unseen owl.
This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55
hosted by Mr. Knowitall.
For more 55's pay him a visit -
If you think Micro Fictions are fun.
Come join me for a Sunday 160.
A challenge using exactly 160 characters
in a story, poem or writing of your choice.