I have never seen the splendor of autumn before. I haven’t known the festival that fall plans for the mankind– the autumnal celebration of colors is a beauty to behold. As the winter was approaching the trees were shedding leaves; they were metamorphosing from green giants to living skeletons of boughs and branches. Soon their twiggy bodies would be covered with snow. The branches that once exhibited shades of green, were now clad in a thousand shades of brown, red, orange and yellow. Leaves fell like rain when the wind blew; the ground under every deciduous tree was a bed of leaves. A crackling sound followed my footsteps when I walked on them.
A pair of ducks swimming on the Mississippi was enjoying the cold afternoon – they poked each other and ducked their heads underwater playfully. As they glided in the cold water, dead leaves from maples and birches fell on the water in silence. A gush of wind separated more leaves from their branches, thrusting them farther away from the trees that once held them lovingly. It was a lifetime separation, for a fallen leaf would never reunite with its bearer. I could hear the melancholy note of autumn through its fallen leaves, bare trees, icy water, gray skies and the cool sun. Even so, the celebration of colors would leave you mesmerized, make you wonder if nature had all the hues hidden in its objects.
The woolen coat wasn’t warm enough to beat the cold. My hands were freezing, for I forgot to bring my mittens. I felt the urge to touch the dry leaves, feel the cold water and caress the damp trunks of aspens. Alas! I couldn’t bring the hands out of my pockets and run them on the beauties of fall – it was too cold. The tall sturdy trees bore signs of autumn; while most had their leaves in yellow and brown, some had in orange and a few in red. The dead leaves in red reminded me of rose petals, soft and smooth. Each maple leaf is a nature’s work of art, and on an autumn afternoon, a man finds it difficult to fight the urge to lie on a bed of maple leaves. It was only the Christmas trees that stood tall and green, the approaching winter causing little harm to its leaves or colors. Even in the biting cold of December, it’s these Yule trees which would stand tall and strong.
Standing on the picturesque bank of the Mississippi, I inhaled the smell of dry leaves mixed in cold air and evening dew. The icy air filled my lungs, and I coughed. Staring at the sky, I tried to catch a glimpse of the rising moon. But the moon was nowhere to be seen; perhaps a shroud of cloud kept it out of sight. A squirrel running past me, stopped for a second to look at me. Startled, it sped away, its small feet crunching dead leaves.
It was time to return. The evening was already clothing nature in a dark suit called the night. It was getting darker and colder. I started toward home, humming a Bengali song that I thought I had long forgotten…
http://www.thedailystar.net/lifestyle/2008/11/01/page04.htm
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