Unzipping My Sleeping Bag

The morning sun had not yet cut the forest into shadow and light, and the gray mist of the coming day fell from the autumn sky. The creeping fog added its damp prospective to the Trees. Their visually poetic patterns were etched in red and yellowed leaves on muted branches of greys and browns. Ever Greens dotted the hillside as if Punctuating the view with quotation marks, periods, and commas, allowing nature to write her commentaries in a breath taking language of color. My mind captured by the fallen leaves, cascaded down the mosaic of a hillside to the forest floor. It was released by a small flock of birds that landed in the trees near the lake. Their fluttering black wings slapped and echoed. Chaotic chirping bounced with them in a morning mêlée of song and dance. The occasional red tipped wing flickered through the hopscotched patterns of sight and sounds. Welcomed by the stark morning, and in spite of the contrast the frolicking cacophony brought to the once quiet serene surroundings, My sleeping bag half unzipped I stopped… the since of oneness made me sigh in completeness.