Light coating of frost covering the still lively green in the meadow near the river proud with life now slow with the contrasting temperature.
This solitude of the rising morning chilling and yet so stark in its beauty.
Frosted glass with magical patterns upon windshield with glaze as it were.
As sun is beaconed to rise in the East, an orb of such majestic beauty finds its rays upon all that is covered releasing the nurturing moisture to the still vivid green colors so late in fall like a child taking in its mother’s milk.
These are the mornings some curse but I treasure.
For though the day brings an agenda of hurried existence and purpose required, this is what nourishes the soul.

How I long for the sunset with promised harvest moon in the evening.
With billowing colors before you show your loving face. Lavenders, oranges, pinks and blues of such a wondrous spectrum of the universe’s paint brush.
I wait in the evening for the performance I long to see, nature at its best for all humanity.