An Autumn Still

What a tapestry the forest weaves before the winter chill,
it grasps the air with colors bright,
a painting if you will.

The sun peeks through the morning, startling my eyes,
I glance among the dancing leaves, to a melody of surprise.

The cool air fills the valley.
a freshness with a chill,
and crackling twigs beneath my feet
sound with the whipporwill.

A painting now that lives and breaths,
that sways beneath the northern wind;
gracing veils among the leaves.
catching glimpses of Him.

A tapestry both bold and shy,
stages itself against the sky.
and plays until the sunset ends
only to begin again.