As the moon illuminates the street, I can almost hear the moaning of the trees, bending their balance of dark bare limbs as if made of invisible elastic. The air is chilled with the petrichor of purple autumn leaves, dried and strewn about the sidewalk. I could go overboard with the strong pull of too near season’s scents, bringing memories of chilly walks of childhood when gusty cold winds froze ice frosted ponds and voiceless birds tightened their grip on snowy branches.
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https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2022/10/17/wordle-292/
The Bag Lady 
wow! INcredible, I felt it all!
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That’s very good!
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Thank you Dan
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I love that image of the quiet birds keeping a tight grip on the branches in the cold wind. Poor birds! I do think of them when it’s cold and rainy. I guess they’re fine, used to it, and made for it. Unlike the bedraggled neighbor’s cats. Poor cats!
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Oh, it took my comment when I used Chrome and signed into WordPress (which I already was)! I don’t usually use Chrome.
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I’m lucky to get anything in the right place
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Thank you
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