Seasons golden, rustic colors

shed from the aged old tree.

I lean in against the scaly bark

smell the age of autumn’s passing

I feel the leaves falling freely kaleidscope

around the warmth of the breeze.

I step gingerly at the  base of roots grounded by time,

pigmented color, bark’s earthy smell.

Feeling the gifts of nurtured ground and holy soil

a symphony of change begin to swell.

I am brought to the awareness of time,

and the treasures it bares.

©   CMM  2015