Abutting a frenzy of dancing air,
Petals and leaves propel themselves still.
Potted points of oxygen emissions.
Nature dovetails with man made structures.
Breaking left and right,
Aboveish and belowish.
Much like gravity,
But not as omnipresent.
A delicious chill leaks down my back and puckers my cheeks.
The time of seasonal consistency approaches its end.
Onward to the new death,
And dying things.
That somehow make it their business to appear at a later time.