Beautiful shade falls freely from these trees beneath this autumn day. Cascades like hope while padding like rain. With puddling saturated truthful rays, it streams like rivers and reflects on kings. With a whistling harp over hills unseen. And this, all this, is your favorite thing. Moreso than me to be underneath. Perhaps, its understandably so. Such fair and free beings in the shade of these most loving trees, I see. Finally see. I am you. And one with you are me.