 | | 2015-04-03 00:00
From blog Finding Femme
Tooled Leather and a Remix
Autumn is the Phoenix Season I rose as a weakling, with ash in my mouth. The sun bore down on me, the rain washed me out. Initiated, I grew and grew strong. I rose on the wind, and sung my heart-song. I groomed my feathers, golden and red. Caught the last sunlight and bowed my head Stretched out my wings, burst into flame. Burned down to ashes, and then rose again. Autumn is my favourite season. The sunlight becomes golden, the leaves of the trees fire into jets of colour before tumbling as light as feathers through the air to the ground. It is a season of change, where we remember all that was grown from Spring and Summer and we prepare...
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