Lays before me, a quilt of calico.
Deep and soft, spilt upon the woodland path.
Born of crimson kites with golden hues,
cast, as trees unburden, prepare for sleep.
Scents sweeten the sip of Autumn's blaze,
that tender nip of frosted morn.
Melding earth, sun and rain upon the wind,
made worth, the heady anticipation.