I will make some tea today,
and snuggle beneath a shedding tree,
and write a bit of pictures seen
in the scattered colors of Autumn.
There is a stretch of open space --
a place called 'Hollow' at Sakin'el,
easily scanned from the porch
where hanging chimes blend easy
with the splashing songs
of flume, ponds and ripple-fall.
I never rake this field, you see;
but let the wind play a bit each day
with new additions to the pallet
and sculpting texture of branches down
and forgotten croquet ball.
Like the herb tea steeping slow,
life here is an infusion of gifts and dreams …
and I hear m'lady Em begin to play her harp,
and the breeze sighs gentle
on my soul.