Leaves gently fall from amber painted trees,
resting lightly like feathers on Earth's warm, soft dirt.
Brightly colored wild flowers search for the sun's warmth,
straining up towards the dimming sky – like prisoners hunting for escape.
Sunlight slowly disappears behind the rolling hills,
bathing the field in a purple hue.
The warmth is fading,
leaving behind a damp, darkness in its place.
The sweet cries of sparrows transform,
wolves howl, echoing throughout the trees,
an owl cries out who.
The dying light reflects off of the small, silver lake,
it's glass like surface shining bright for all to see.
Looking closely you see a reflection,
Your own face - staring directly at you,
Just like a mirror.
You see yourself, no one else,
though the world is alive around you.
