I creased the edges of the wrapping paper, making the edges sharp and straight. The sellotape was uniformly cut to length, the ribbon perfectly curled. She'd been distant all week, probably to do with getting older, but this gift was going to snap her out of her blues. I hid it behind me as I went downstairs, then held it out with a beaming smile. She glared. "What is this?" "Um, your birthday present? Happy birthday!" She reached out, taking it with a casual disregard. "What's wrong? I think you'll like it." I smiled encouragingly. "My birthday was last week."
As the days grow short, the colours turn bold, deciduous trees discard green for gold, russet and amber, an autumn array. Seasonal palette of hues on display, a feast for artistic eyes to behold.
The clear skies of day have been placed on hold, evening's glamour begins to unfold, a last hurrah as the sun slips away, as the days grow short.
The temperature plummets, the air grows cold, but nature still paints, she is uncontrolled. Repetition might seem a bit cliche, but we see her glory day after day. And beauty like this can never grow old, as the days grow short.
Prompt: 'Good judgement comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgement.' - Will Rogers
Even as he throws my mistakes back in my face, with brutal and unerring accuracy, I recognise that he is repeating a mistake I have made before. Stumbling through trial and error (leaning heavily towards error), until we emerge wiser but by no means unscarred.
I collected syrupy tears from each wounded tree, rejoicing in the sweetness that danced on my tongue and licking the stickiness from my lips. I never once spared a thought to wonder why Mother Nature was crying.