Silent sun shines softly bright
On the waning green of trees about to winter.
Penetrating the leaves
And outlining each vein.
This whispering sun caresses the grass.
With fine filters through the fence cracks,
It gently covers the house
And slips gracefully through the moss.
A fragile day, this end of summer.
The earthy breeze and tender sun
So carefully preserve the warmth.
A tended hearth.
Portend of the coming quiet beauty
Of another season.
