A skein of geese across the sky -- a line and not a v, or even the elaborate patterns of v's you get with large skeins.
Asters blossom, purple and feral in distinct stands along the highway, many strides apart.
To one side, the blue sky, clear as sapphire. to the other, the fog, thick as thick, dirty, dingy shades that are not even clearly brown or gray.
Gray swathes the sky -- except for a gap to the west, where pale blue sky and delicate shades of cream and white and rose.
Trees, trees, trees -- on the stretch of highway where a few trees had withered in the drabbest yellow beige possible, now another few are lambent red by the wayside -- an oak is a merry motley of the brightest green and yellow and red and orange -- a tree has three limbs all ruby red leaves and three more emerald green -- a tree has its leaves yellow up to the end of its long boughs, where the branches are covered with brown leaves -- two trees side by side, one all barren branches, the other a glowing orange.
Skein after skein of geese. Once honking drew my eye to see a jagged Z flying through air, and another skein as well, where they formed a curve like some futuristic aircraft or a bow wave. Others are merely
Streetlights lining the highway, bare of birds -- until one has an array of pigeons, perched all along every inch, with their feathers fluffed up -- and nothing more after until just before my exit, where a lone seagull perches on one.
All about the trees are utterly bare, but one still blazes fluorescent red with leaves on every bough -- though you can tell, since every branch and bough and the trunk itself are dark lines veined through the leaves.
On the roadkilled rabbit, six great black birds gather. One might take them for enormous ravens, but a look shows the heads too small, and a careful one, that their heads are those of vultures.
A tree looked fiery red all over until close enough to see how the most exposed leaves were pallid and brownish from frost.