An aged wooden fence appears
and retreats in the mist.
A moody silence broken only
by the photographer's footsteps
upon dirt remains of a country lane.

Ethereal beauty lingers in place
an intricate texture
of an impressionists painting.

We borrow a bit of the moon's final glimmer
to break out from the whirlwind of fall's
most vibrant harvest: tiny pencil cattails
fan out across this multi-colored field lavished
with the richest red huckleberry leaves
set off by linum, preserved lemon leaves
and lepidium.

Your boots suck bottom mud to behold a world
of wonder caught in a single maple leaf,
its veins as intricate as a map. The jagged
peaked perimeter so fascinating you can not resist
tracing it with fingertips that are nearly frozen.

This morning love stories seem written just
for you, and you wonder when does serenity
become all energy, and why does your heart
dance with every turn of your head?

Richer yet, the scent of towering pines
becomes part of your memory, this sweet timber
destined to row in circles around your heart.

Lured with the promise of hot coffee
and a warm car, you head for home.

This day God assumed the form of a cattail
a towering tree, a lingering scent
upon the chilled wind.

"I am not now that which I have been."

'This morning love stories seem written just
for you, and you wonder when does serenity
become all energy, and why does your heart
dance with every turn of your head?

Richer yet, the scent of towering pines
becomes part of your memory, this sweet timber
destined to row in circles around your heart.'

Breathtaking images here, Julian! I truly loved this!

sp

to be with you...
I've tried to hide my passion,
but it's just no use...
piece by piece I lose it
when you walk into the room...