They walked in sharp and brisk of the morning cold, stirred and awakened in shock of sense to be autumn alive. Vapor clouds exhaled in their breaths as they walked in the autumn woods; yellows and golds, scarlets, and ambers honey-hued as sunlight through. The walked in the ever opening of canopy, that day by day, hour by hour, wind by wind shone ever more bare and feel; leaves freed and felled and strewn in blanket of the ground, crunching under feet, scratching in wind’s blow; evanescence and ethereal of glory eight-day’s high.