Simple

The early morning frost touched gently

upon the field of autumn’s late flowers

forming prisms of sparkle with dawn’s first light.

 

The November skies are low with heavy gray

As the warm earth tones surrender their hues

And life prepares for the simple wisdom of change.

 

The north winds howl at the prospect of sleep

For the days will grow shorter and the night will take hold

So that the stillness;  yields to the flow.