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 its' 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.
As 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.