My favorite season is autumn. I especially like the mornings. The wind is nice, a cool breeze, sharp against my skin, like ice; goosebumps. I often ventured into my backyard, and cutting blades of grass whipped at my ankles, yet were so soft against my feet. Sticky dew clings to the skin at my heels. 

      My favorite song is the string of notes echoed from a birds beak. And the brush of leaves as the wind blew through the trees, like nature's hand through its hair. The sun was soft against my skin. Its light dipped on my face and danced on my cheeks. 

That made me smile. 

      The afternoon is just as soothing, and the evening soon follows. Dry leaves crunched under the heavy march of boots. Blunt shrills of the zippers of freezing pedestrians echoed in the air, as the sun set and the air cooled. Cluttered chirps of animals glittered from the trees. The last breath of wind puffed into the sky and hushed the whistling beings. 

      I can imagine, now, the moon, claiming the sky, as shy stars, eager to play, danced in the night. I can only imagine, though. I can't see it. I am blind. 

      I liked to envision the sunset, too, a watery canvas of warm, velvety hues. Oranges and pinks, dipped inbetween a thin skyline of homes and houses. A shimmer of purple and a yellowed haze; a sherbert of colors. 

This made me smile, too.