Harp strings and fog horns, bass grooves, flute
flight sun dropping light, tree leaves casting
shadow, life so full you want to cry.
Nothing more than love, than whispers, than trees turning colors
as a last bow to life-giving Light
before Winter settles in, pale grey and quiet. The slumber
of the Soul. Eyes closed and Beautiful. To know Life, to really
is to weep with Joy and shed countess tears