My roughouts, damp
with the morning dew.
A briskness in the air,
foretelling the approach
of the brushes of Autumn

The palette lies prepared
just beyond the horizon,

awaiting the artist's hand.

A seductive voice
rides upon the cooling breeze,
whispering it's invitations into mind's ear
and drawing my body to the river's banks.

All of my cares
drift away like
the first regatta
of fallen leaves
that ride lightly upon
the shimmering ripples.

Soft notes
flow from my flute,
gently manipulating the air.

Ever so subtle,

so as to blend
in harmony with
the dragonfly's final
dance of summer.

Turtle sits in meditation
upon a sunbeamed log
and Egret bows his head
in anticipation of breakfast.

These images will remain
long after this day is gone
and into the passing years.

The dragonfly
will continue
her ballet,
within the blessing
of a new song.

***