Beedahbun- the horizon is a strip of blazing red dissecting a blue and grey behind the jagged array of nearly-naked trees. It’s November. The only motion he sees are the leaves falling from the trees with little to no provocation at all. There is no wind, so they seem to just let go as if they’d been waiting for the right time. They sail down on the resistance of air and sway to and fro until they reach the frosty ground, where they settle, where they are prepared to spend eternity.
