The fruit of fall

For days they held me prisoner to their fragrance and fragile beauty. The apple blossoms seemed neverending.  Friday morning the sunrise revealed their brilliance through the light frost from the night before.



I thought they would last forever.



White and pink against the blue.  And the frenzied humming of busy bees.



Night came. The sun rose and brought with it a light rain.  As the rain fell, so also the petals.



First one, then another, and then another cascaded to the ground below.



Perfumed clusters of white lay silent..



They shed their beauty upon mud, metal, asphalt, grass.  Whatever lay beneath.



A profusion of surrender.



Lending their fragrance to all they touched.



Soon it will all be over, just a memory of spring.



A memory that will live on in the sweet, red fruit of fall.