Autumn

Sonnet 73 (William Shakespeare 1609)

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.



Autumn is a classical music of the Nature, when it begins, the gravity disappears…. The leaves are all falling, and they're falling like they're falling in love with the ground…Such something incredibly nostalgic and significant about the annual cascade of autumn leaves…
I wish you a lovely september and a wonderful autumn