Trees are aflame in a fire without heat.
Golden reds and crimson yellows climb through the branches.
A kiss of temperate winds on the cheek.
A feel of soft grasses, and sounds muffled by leaves.
The heat of summer days giving way.
Cool nights of bullfrogs and cricket songs.
The moon, a shade of water’s blue.
The starlight neither hazy, nor winter bright.
Golden reds and crimson yellows climb through the branches.
A kiss of temperate winds on the cheek.
A feel of soft grasses, and sounds muffled by leaves.
The heat of summer days giving way.
Cool nights of bullfrogs and cricket songs.
The moon, a shade of water’s blue.
The starlight neither hazy, nor winter bright.