Cameo AT (WEC Cartier x Clair de Lune CX)
Now the trees catch colors of fire. (Meanwhile the staff are catching a cold.) The leaves that had set themselves aflame while the weather was still thick with summer were the first harbingers of autumn, but the cold and crunch crept into the clouds and air and burrowed there unnoticed. Summer ebbs to cinnamon. Sweeping tree branches hang low, their twisted fingers tickling the squelching mud from a stormy night.
Still as lithe and puppylike as in his foal days, Cameo runs in the fields. The wind combs his tangled mane and plucks the leaves off trees. He’s the only horse that really seems to share Alexa’s partiality to autumn. (Maybe that’s why he’s her favorite.) Autumn to them is magic. There’s the brewing wonder that enchants the air and the sharp crackle of leaves underfoot. Clouds hide the sun yet everything still glows honey without it. Cheeks feel warm because the air is not. The fire flood of aurums and rouges spares nothing, but nothing gold can stay anyway.
Catching Colors, part II (end). Go back to part I ≫