Colores de.... fall

This a desciptive essay I wrote for world lit, let me know what you think...


The slightly breezy, afternoon air has a warm, crisp bite to it. The air whispers of the coming of winter, endless, frigid and just around the corner. A solitary man and his horse are still, set atop of a grassy knoll overlooking a valley. The cowboy is relaxed in his brown saddle, worn smooth by use and kept in shape by a careful hand. The man’s long coat is draped over him, hugging his back like a mother. Coverered with abrasions, his favorite hat is tattered along the edges. His hands are wearing a pair new leather gloves, lacking the creases of good use and bearing the fresh smell of new leather. The animal the man controls below him is a strong, weathered horse, like the cowboy himself. The dissipateing heat from the worked horse rises, bringing with it the pugnant odor of equine persperation. Beneath the man and his roan-colored horse grow grasses of all shades of brown, tan, and gold. The floor is carpeted with a unique blend of browns. Amogst the grasses are tall golden rods, which protrude from the ground like flaming torches. Skattererd among the grasses on the hillside are groups of bright reds of sumac, with its grape-like clusters of red berries. The low spots and runoffs are littered with small purple flowers that bloom late in the fall. Across the entire hillside, another type of flowers are fading away, losing color and turning white, giving the appearnace of snow drifts, a omnious notion of the winter to come. A trail of flattened grasses lead off to the right into a field of golden soybeans, ripe for harvest, the pods rattleing in the October wind. A small group of pheasants with their flashy feathers comb through the grass, keeping alert and wary of the petrid odor of fox. The grassland gracefully rolls to the left into a group of trees, where squirrels scold each other as they store provisions for the winter ahead. The tallest of the trees are populars, with their distinctive white trunks and leaves that quiver in the wind. A few maple trees dot the forest also, bringing attention to the bright reds and yellows that blanket the ground. Over and across the valley is a stream that meanders through the grass and cattails. Fluffs of seeds are blown away by the incoming breeze which carries the earthy smell of damp leaves. Grazing on the green grass are three does, occaisonally halting their feast by surveying the surrounding land for predators, only to countinue as if they had no fear. The dry, coarse corn near them rustles gently in the wind. Its bright yellow ears are visible where wind and water and torn the husk away, revealing the kernels beneath. The bluff that wraps around the valley is covered in bright reds, vibriant yellows, and blazing oranges, a parade of colors in fall. As the eye levels to the horizen, the sun is setting and with it the day is passing. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that encompass the sky lift are exhilirating and humbleing, giving life a new perspective.