The Autumn chill blows between

the seasons hardened trees

The leaves may turn

a beautiful shade of gold

but my hue will always

be a summer's green

only to be seen when the sun

hangs high in the sky

and the clouds are

nowhere to be seen

I lie down on the fresh

verdant pasture

waiting for a soft breeze

to fan my sun blushed cheeks

and the soft wings of

a butterfly to flutter

past my softened senses

I slowly drift out of this

comely consciousness

to be once more awakened

from my silent slumber

by the humming of the

ever busy bumble bee

Wakeful, I kneel and

pray to the spirit of all

that is here and now.