The crisp, golden colours of autumn foliage
set a backdrop of warm russets and oranges along the side street.
They glow as the bold shapes of the street lights cut through them,
angular and steely, petrol blue in the twilight.
Dusty, dark bark against the flutter of soft, yet crumpled orange leaves.
So delicate, so beautiful and so impermanent like the heady days of a butterfly.
One strong wind, and they are gone.
Plumes of white vapour billow like the breath of a snuffling dragon around them.
They nod, smile and chat unconcerned whilst their bodies appear to smoke like embers in a fire.