the low clouds hanging over me play a slow game of tag,
changing color, adding shadow, and bumping into each other.
they whisper to the red and yellow grasses that shiver and shake
as they laugh at the silly jokes the clouds tell them.
the oak all the while smiles and chuckles to itself and the birds;
they’ve seen and heard it all, swaying in wisdom and peace.
the foothills sigh and happily snuggle closer to the earth,
enjoying autumn talk and shadow play along trabuco canyon.
Jackie's Bower 
Leave a comment