Haiku On Autumn Mga Nobela at Kwento

Would he let me fall? If I fell, there’d be no more secrets between us. He’d definitely see my magic come out during a life or death situation. Another sheet of ice and snow rips through him, and the tension in my shoulders leaves me as the flakes begin to flurry around me. I lift myself just slightly to see the world below us pass by in colors of late summer. The leaves are tinged with amber colors, like autumn is just seconds away from turning the world around me into crisp beauty. Another shaking roar rumbles within him, and he rains down more of the pretty flakes and glittering ice. The wide fields below are a blanket of white, glistening in the warm sunlight.

**A Season of Growing** Autumn had settled gently over Port Haven, painting the trees in shades of amber and crimson. The cool breeze carried the smell of salt and earth, a reminder of the changing seasons and the rhythm of their new life. Lillian and Nicholas had quickly fallen into the town’s pace, each day marked by small, quiet routines that felt like rituals—watering the plants, sharing breakfast on their porch, evening walks along the cliffside.

She had to move slowly because it was so stiff. Above her birds were chirping in the trees and a cool fall breeze was blowing gently through her hair. Cara loved evenings such as this. Autumn was her favorite time of year. Not just because of her birthday, either. There were so many other reasons. This time of year was still warm enough for so many different outdoor activities, but not as hot as summer. She loved pumpkin patches and craved everything pumpkin spice! Hay rides and festivals, bobbing for apples, cider and pie, and the changing colors. Nature went from everything green to an explosion of color just before shaking it off for the drab, monotonous, blank canvas of winter. Cara love

Red and yellow leaves float down through the air like rubies and gold coins drifting underwater, a pirate’s treasure trove carpeting our front lawn in lustrous Autumn splendor. I’m sitting on the window seat in my parents’ room, looking out through the misty glass panes. I clutch Funnybunny, my favorite stuffed toy, against my chest, and I begin to sing the song we learned in kindergarten yesterday. The blackbirds in the tree outside gather on a branch near the window, bobbing up and down, trilling in time with my rolling melody.

Something indescribable had begun to take shape inside me, leaving me almost giddy. *Trick or treat.* An encounter that had begun with a dog’s little *trick* had brought an unexpected sweetness into my life. A *treat* of my own. I still did not know what this feeling might grow into. But there was no doubt that it had brought the vivid colors of autumn into days that had once passed quietly, one much like the next. “It really is a happy Halloween.” Still smiling, I walked lightly toward the dining room.

The year 2014 Day first. It was the ninth month of the year. The autumn season. It is the season of inner calm and a kindly stoicism etched in memories of joy. The autumn comes as a gospel choir, harmonised in such a way that celebrates each hue and shows how they belong together. Autumn is alien. The season of bumper harvests and swaying hay is soon replaced by Hallowe’en and horror. It is a portal to a time of dread when winter’s suffocating skies throttle the land. At its most glorious, autumn is spectacular. The world is a-blaze in its fiery cloak of colours, from incandescent-red to lightning-gold. Then both leaf flame and field light burn bright one last time, ‘are fading into the dyin

The moon hung low, swollen and gold, casting a heavy glow across the clearing where the Veil had once torn the world open. Its light gilded the grass in molten silver, washing everything in a dreamlike hush. Autumn stood barefoot in the dew-damp grass, arms loosely crossed over her chest. Outwardly, the night was warm, soft with summer’s breath. But inside, her thoughts churned like a restless sea. So much had changed. Too much.

Laura October arrives like a held breath finally released. The air shifts. The heat breaks. The world exhales. The leaves turn from green to gold to red to brown. The garden changes. The roses fade. The oak tree holds onto its leaves longer than the others, stubborn and proud, like it is trying to prove something. I am still not in school. The semester off stretches in front of me like a road without a map. No destination. No timeline. Just the road itself. Just the act of moving.

Autumn had reached its full, glorious peak in the capital. The palace gardens blazed with amber, crimson, and gold as leaves drifted lazily from the ancient trees. The air was crisp and fragrant with the scent of ripening apples, sweet pears, and freshly baked harvest breads wafting from the city’s ovens. Lanterns of colored glass and silver hung between buildings, casting warm, dancing light over the streets filled with music, laughter, and the joyful chaos of the annual Harvest Festival.

Tabitha's pov I tilted my head to the side as I stared at the sun setting far in the horizon, leaving splashes of orange and pink hue in the sky. It made the trees whose leaves had turned orange look even more breathtaking. Autumn was fast wrapping up and the wind was becoming colder but even as I sat close to my open window, I didn't feel the thrill I usually did whenever it was this time of the year. I stared blankly at the lines of trees that stood tall and the woods called out to me but I couldn't bring myself to do any other thing than sit and stare. The house was awfully quiet. I had only barely managed to get Hilda to sleep after the traumatizing experience but I was yet to put my wan