Fall poetry
The environnent was a rather romantic fall forest filled with bright colors and the eternal contrast between dying nature and the late blooms of the tastiest crops. Mushrooms were abondant and glowing in an harmony of colors whch were amplified by the sunset scenery happening. Distant mountains covered by few coniferous trees which brought a contrast of greenery to the natural environment, and the wind was blowing in a soft whisper, almost as if inviting the few pacas outside for a lonely dance before the harsher winter coming at the doors of the community. Yet, in this poetry of a fleeting instant, there were not many souls still roaming outside.
Upon the flight of an avian creature, it was determined that it was rather silent, besides the occasionnal ruffling of leaves about to fall. There was only one lonely figure perched atop a tree. With ten wiggly nubs, it seemed rather out of place with its pale patchy smooth surface and brown hair. What was more surprizing was how they have installed a painter canvas onto the thick brach below their wiggly figure wearing a vest and a signature blue beanie which could be recognizable anywhere from afar. Cinno, as it was what they were named, enjoyed the scenery as they sketched the outline of the piece they wanted to immortalize in the gleam of their artistic eyes. It was beauty in a raw form, so pure and unalterated that it would become a melody for the beholder.
Strategic strokes of his coal pen and he would translate his vision onto the pristine white surface of his camvas. With a smile onto his slightly chubby adorable face he would focus only upon the silence agony of a dying nature, only to be soon reborn anew, in its more glistering form. Nature was truly at its most beautiful when life and death danced and sang in unisson, the pacapillar tought. Who was he to decline the call of his native forest to be immortalized once more. He was but translating the will of his environment onto the matte fabric used to cover the wooden frame of the camvas. It was a gigantic piece, but Cinno had more than one trick up of the sleeves of his stained jacket. He hummed in a satisfied way as the melody of nature was repeating in front of his eyes. It was dynamic to the point he even shed a tear.
He was simply admiring the raw natural beauty laid in front of his small being. Being a natural loner, Cinno knew better than bringing other to his numerous secret sketching trees. Every artist had to keep their secrets, not unlike the most experts of magicians. Once the pacapillar was satisfied with his art, he carefully strapped it with ropes onto his back, after having covered the outer layer with a fabric blanket so the harsh light would not hinder the purity of his lines. It started to get dark as he slowly climbed down from the tree with a slightly sad gaze. He felt the most alive when he was in heightened altitudes.
He more than often wished to have been born with wings and wondered what kind of world was perceived by those majestic animals he so much appreciated and admired from afar. When he closed his eyes, he could immagine himself taking flight among the dead orange leaves, but reality would always catch back with him. As he breathed the pure air, he noticed fog forming due to the coldness of the environment. Yet, he could not feel the coldness onto his squishably adorable body.
Once he was down the tree he slowly crawled back to hous cabin, as the sunset left its place to the crying serenade of the moonlight which was mourning the death of day and the inevitable fate of the trees of the forest and the numerous animals whou would fail to survive through the winter season.