The summer angst is over. What would flower has bloomed; what would be eaten
has been consumed. Cabin dwellers and woodland creatures all happy in their own way. The leaves are magnificent in their dying. The air crisp as temperatures fall. Gardens are bedded down with a layer of mulch, and bulbs buried to sleep until a new Spring’s blooming. She sits and admires it all, is grateful for all, is faith-filled again, for another season.
Flowers have grown old
Falling petals making mulch
Her pathway follows