Ruska

The leaves, once thriving with a fresh green color as bright as the sun that nourished them, have diminished in vivacity. Their texture has steadily regressed to a fragile state, cracking and crunching on the slightest contact with human hands. The tiny veins pulsating life through these leaves once breathed an energetic existence in harmony with the other trees that sprung to life in the vicinity, during the springtime. The bountiful disorganized, mismatched leaves clung to these same trees from dense branches strong enough to withstand forceful gusts of winds. The leaves held on firm, playing the role of their short lived part in the Earth cycle. With the curtains now drawing closed on yet another summer season, the brittle leaves now fall individually from the trees, one by another floating silently to the cold hardened ground.

There is a dynamic beauty in the turning of the seasons. As summer gives way to fall, the colors on the leaves transcend from a robust, rich density to various sharp shades ranging through red, yellow and orange before fading to a brown lifeless form. The dry leaf’s texture takes on a separate essence from its original form, bearing little resemblance to the life it once carried. A flash-filled end to the hot season and the on come of autumn is a short lived but lively show, surrounding the area with scenes of vivid graphic appeal. The burst of such various luminous colors before the inevitable corrosion of these leaves livens the parks and forests before settling into the frigid months of lifeless hibernation.
As the trees stand naked, the dried up branches poke out their jagged stalks, unwelcoming and rough. Autumn has taken the breath away from some trees faster than others but inevitably, many of the trees here will fade for the winter, shedding the remainder of their coat of leaves.
With roots alive and intact, the trees will once again have their time come spring. And so the life cycle continues.

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