Autumn eased into winter

Our street sings the music of late autumn.  The plane trees are losing leaves and the wind blows them around like drunken dancers.
     In a way I like it when they assemble in the small front garden. Occasionally I would ask a beggar to pick some up while he waits for his take-away food parcel. But it does not upset me. It is part of life.

The dead and the living in my garden: Autumn leaves and scented geranium.