In England, Autumn is a season to be loved, and I love.

It's the time for squirrels as they bury their nuts in the ground.

It's a time of trees and their boughs that creak with the weight of Summers passed.

It's the time of leaves on the ground and rustling blankets to hide all passages that crunch with a mysterious sound.

It's the time of invisible creatures and paw steps that echo, a presence betrayed at last.

It's the time that hails the darkness to come and the season that passes as the cold of Winter comes around.

by Alex