the steel blue river of ice bends
its swan neck amongst fifty foot
sentinels, balancing the browns
and needle golds below.
while the sweet fall wift of smoke
upon the wind echoes passages
of time and hearth and frost
edging lawns not yet asleep.
clarity of sight. sky splits etch
as in postcards, and nostrils
open without pretense before
the wisdom of evening air.
thank you for the beauty. thank
you for the simplicity. thank
you for the breathing and
feeling. and for being with you.