what the oaks lose in beauty
they gain in flight–
though graceful maples self-immolate
hand by focused hand,
they cannot draw the sun back in.
yet each drab oak leaf, falling here,
is lifted–
humble icarus–
one last slow dance of dying
made of motion,
not of light.
all that’s lost in beauty
gained in flight.
truebeautyalways 
Just perfect for today. xo
Laura Alvarez, MFA Paradiso Arts 310-592-5879 http://www.paradisoarts.com http://www.lauraalvarez.net
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i almost can’t stand how beautiful it is here. it’s like i cannot breathe deeply enough. i must have biked for three hours yesterday because every tree i passed was more beautiful than the last.
Every season gives us a reason to be both grateful and wistful and autumn is my favourite season of all 🙂
Wonderful poem