woods

wet, far too wet.
fall is beautiful,
albeit soggy.
things die,
they fall and droop,
they change colours, letting us know their ferocity before
t d
h r
e o
y p

earth tones abound,
sunlight manages to slip through.
in this little open roofed tree chapel,
wind is reduced to a
calming whisper
it is as innocent as childhood;
the dewdrops on the leaves are like the tears from the fall from Grace.
falling from its Life Source.

There are many paths here
You discover if you look.