Bold oceans of color, for miles in any direction, tinted with soft pinks and blues atop the trees. Rolling like waves across the ocean, rouge and gold caress the leaves. The smell of sweet maple, crisp and clean, flushes the air. It is unique and unmatchable. The feeling is soft and cool, like the nose of a playful puppy. Making you feel safe, secure, and welcome. All is assured in this time of peace and harmony. Life is simple and complete.

One being, a soul of rebellion, chooses to break the code, he still wears green when everyone wears orange. It is a harmony above the perfect melody, making it unique. That is the brilliance, the one tree, and the beauty of autumn.

Then they fall, each piece of perfection. The golden leaves of the tree become brown debris on the ground. The cool maple air becomes depressed and chilled. The once rolling oceans of bold color become dark dismal branches of despair. The tint of the skies no longer pink or blue, but rather gray and meaningless. The unique smells have long since died away in icy breaths. The glorified sounds of harmony have mellowed out into repetitive melody. No longer does it have meaning, just presence.

Its colors, sounds and smells define the beauty of fall. But all too quickly winter reaches in and take over, dulling life yet again. It is natural beauty that fall represents; and deception that winter represents. The yearly event of fall to winter change shows just how easily something great can be lost…