A symphony of fall

In the dance of colors, where autumn leaves sway,

Two graceful birds in flight, painting skies not gray.

Amidst the hues of gold, red, and mellow sun,

A canvas alive, a new day begun.

Their wings brush against the fading light,

As if stitching dreams into the fabric of night.

Feathers dipped in sunset's fiery glow,

They write verses of freedom as they go.

The trees, adorned in their seasonal attire,

Whisper secrets to the birds, higher and higher.

Crimson, amber, and ochre leaves descend,

A symphony of fall, a story without end.

And there, in the artist's strokes so fine,

Artist captures magic, frozen in time.

His signature etched, a testament to grace,

In this painted world, the birds find their place.

So let us linger here, beneath the boughs,

Where poetry and color intertwine somehow.

For in this fleeting scene, we learn to fly,

And embrace the beauty that dances across the sky.