Ghost Upon the Floor

 I give you, the true face of evil. Running through the cemetery this past week, I noticed how, on a hill where there are sparse trees, the leaves of the trees had begun to fall. Off there branches, crunchy, colorless and dead. Leaves with the texture of November, but without even the slightest hint of the deep oranges and reds the changing colors bring.


 Apparently, my area of upstate New York has been having the worst dry spell since the 1950's. Any threat to any part of autumn happening is an unspeakable horror, in my book. Think: Christmas being cancelled for a young child-- but one thousand times worse.

 I am hoping this does not go on much longer, and hoping that we get some much needed water pouring down from the sky very soon. We must have fall, in all its glory.