Dry Rain

After the first nocturnal frosts, an uninterrupted dry rain is coming – the maple leaves crumble with an inconsistent rustle. The whole street is crying. As the leaf from the top of the tree flies to the ground, he will touch dozens of others along the way and cause a rustling noise, an almost icy sound, and the fall of other leaves. And they go down, as if by some magic, without any wind.

I picked up the toasted leaf. I’m standing, listening to the dry, dry rain. So, probably, the dishes on the table of dwarfs are ringing.

Steps! Turn around – who’s coming? A-ah, yes, this apple-tree leaves drops!

Chu! Again steps behind him… Looked back – the birch flew by. Who now? Who’s next?

Autumn tree games…

And that roasted sheet, it is a little concave, as if the palm was gathered in a handful. And on the edges of something – a miracle! Exactly the smallest pearls embroidered edges!

A minute passed – looked at the sheet, and he was no longer the same, dulled and began to sweat.

In black chokeberry leaves are also trimmed with a white pattern. Scarlet, crimson, cherry, and around the edges of a white sparkling frame.

The last holiday. Before falling, skukozhitsya, blacken – at full force, in all beauty shows itself autumn!

The garden table is covered with a heap of leaves. Approach, choose. The last gift of autumn.

No, not the last one. She will still surprise.

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Dry Rain