Learning to dance as trees renounce their leaves, overwhelming the air, kissing it in their descent.
No darkness, dim light and the scent of colorful Dahlias.
Swans pedaling on the lake, gentle wind blowing precious petals over my stared reflection.
It’s Hera’s cloud in the depth of it, the tragic, the deceit.
Story of a time that never flows, like oceans. Blue lyrics and notes not to be heard, but felt.
No old to torment you, no new to surprise you.
Autumn of enduring grace.