The frog croaked softly
amid the morning mist
His breath hung in the air
puffs of October's fall
The birds chirped in splendor
as the frost captured their song
holding notes in suspension
until others returned the call


And on the water, lily pads
floated past in a gentle breeze
the size of china saucers
we'd use whilst sipping tea
a bridge of small proportions
the hopscotch game of life
a crossing from our world to theirs
under the crimson leaves

Birds came to watch with envy
atop their crooked perch
Bugs skated to and fro
across the liquid glass
The dandelion dancers
drifted above the pool
and stood on lily pad ferries
where the bullfrogs had sat

The forest was a portrait
by Van Gogh and Claude Monet
A storm of autumn colors
the lily pads ablaze
A stillness to be broken
beneath the sun's warm smile
The tranquil winds kept blowing
the fire sparked by our gaze

The music of the angels
disguised by amber leaves
amidst the forest wildfire
ne'er to melt the morning frost
And people pass, indifferently
the beauty that was there
as none but I did witness
the life this fall had brought