Today begins with a morning
Wrapped in the beauty of the Crone
Soft pale blue grey mists
Silluetted in starkness of
Dark newly bared branches
Emerging from a season of growth
Rich in vibrant hues, never cliche
Orange, gold, fiery crimsons.
Emerald crownded mallards
Swim serenely among chilled
And wetted leaves, quickly
Moving on their way
Through certainly chilled lake water.
In the balming cool air
A beagle sniffs among the brush
Knowing, perhaps kenning, the passage
Of other more woodsy creatures
From the suspended nocturnal fog
Of the Lady of the Lake
And the Lord of the Wood.