She Wears the Colors of Burning...

Light from the morning sun kisses the ground, with lips that know how and where to place perfection... On high, waves the airy dress of fall... Ripe are the fruits that hang to heavy vine.. Trees reach out in fire and nakedness... Gone are the green blades and sweet scents of summer and her gifts of dreaming and desire... They have been replaced by the earthy exhales of dry ground and powdered promises.. The year's final chapter is being offered on the sheets of crisp air and frosty veils... The eagle and the sparrow find flight, above and beyond, the rolling hills that rise and fall like the crooked spine of yesterday's departure... Today finds her open to fingers that explore and stir her aging wine... Today, she wears the colors of burning....TAH