by Stephanie Whybrow

Created on: October 29, 2009

I stand beside the river alone, listening to the wind as it plays in the tree tops.
Birds flutter, scuffle and settle again, and the river flows soundlessly by.
The trail I followed fades around a corner into the still greenery and silence beyond.
An acorn drops with a gentle thud and just as quickly camouflages on the speckled floor.

My gaze is trapped, hypnotised by reflections in the smooth, glassy surface.

Secrets of the past lay hidden below, deep in the riverbed, not to be disturbed.
A parallel world marches on to a timeless rhthym there beneath, stories of old, unspoken.

Inhaling the sweet, damp air, heavy with scents of after-rain and moistened soil.
There is promise of new beginnings, washed clean, fresh, reborn.
Upon the distant horizon, mountains slumber enshrouded in mists of lush coloured serenity.

Tides of idle grey drift lazily overhead, a rampant thunder swells and dies down.
Thor storms above, in master of torment, ravaging light amidst darkening heavenly shadows,
Electric suspense and static fill the air, threatening indecisively storms of plenty.

The air is whispering: Autumn sing. Peppery shades, tan, peach, yellow, red ablaze,
play an enchanting sonata, composed in the lull of idle, bared branches.
Autumn's reverie pursues, riding softly on a subtle breeze; welcome new season, a warm embrace.

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