Thou breath of autumn's being

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,  Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,  Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou  Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed  The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until  Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow" PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY- ode to the west wind.

Now that fall is here this poem seems so fitting to me seeing the dead leaves and people talking about their wonderous colors. We've reached peak autumn colors and yet I find the leaves dying "each like a corpse in its grave." I went on two hiking journeys last week to the regional open space park near my room of dwelling. It was a fantastic journey that walking I went six miles. The part of the journey I liked the most was lying still in the fall leaves of a small forest as i felt the world pass around ignorant of its beauty. Although some may say this season is more about the soul then that of nature the day was good for it although now it's a little to wet and rainy for peak sauntering and leaf peeping. The part of the poem that really gets me is the words hectic red. Which I've never seen the likes of the red and yellow leafs that ha e been falling of the trees these past weeks. Happy Halloween! This is the post and I don't feel like typing anymore.