*The wind threads through the golden sea of wild autumn grasses

The wind threads through the golden sea of wild autumn grasses,

the dark, heavy clouds sway across the sky.

Frost has stolen the vivid colors of the flowers,

while leaves swirl freely in the air.

Everything seems restless,

yet ready to settle,

to withdraw from summer’s grasp.

It’s the cyclical play of the changing seasons,

ancient, yet renewed with every turn.

☙