'The Fall' by Accalia Smith I used to wonder why they - 'across the pond' - would call it 'The Fall' As if suddenly September brought with it an ending or some kind of tyranny, tending to the fallen as if life had gone cool and gone, or made a mistake, or fell in love. Into a lake. So often in our phrase we fall. Spiral down, plucked by the winds hands and blown far away across the lands No longer gregarious green but ashen, on-its-way-to-soil brown to be fashioned anew, food for the worms, food for food Some love the fall, it lifts the mood some prefer summer for the fall has not come yet. But to fall does not always mean forever, don't you fret. Leaves fall to sustain life. They are not tied to a cross, or cut with a knife but fall into the wind to make room for the new. For every ending is a beginning; like a shoe it has a pair. They always come together; brown leather with brown leather, black canvas with black canvas with rubber sole that stamp and kick up the carcasses strewn on the ground. lol. How words make all the difference to an action. It's The Fall. The leaves dance down turning in each others embrace spiralling down to enrich the ground. I don't think that they just fall. A solid soldier falls in battle slaughtered like cattle for a reason, with the words 'for a greater good'. Without Autumn - 'The Fall' - we could not have Spring - The Sprung.