
shadows and the softness
given by distance
deliver an abstracted woods
Where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry.
Before the first flake falls
the dried wild flower
shares a flurry of beauty.
Even as decay begins to steal away their color
orange leaves wave brightly
celebrating fall until the very end.
This is the path that leads to the place
where the flowers know your name,
walk slowly and listen to their stories of you.