A murder of crows across the sky in early light, tide low, rocks exposed, sun creeping through morning clouds. The great wheel turns fashioning color

The green world breathes the last of summer’s softness, while the souls of winter are lost in warmth. Tall grass spires frame the garden’s closing,

Slow the turning to cool air and longer nights. Light on the water changes color, the green world burnished to rust. Weary, yet unbroken, I

Crows fill the windswept shoreline, black silhouettes against the sky. The sea is gunmetal gray, with sunlight breaking through rose-tinted clouds. Firs sway and dance