I am like a golden mist melted into autumn leaves -

Veins of leafs run through my arms and a green mildew instills in my lungs.

Ants, worms, sky, silence. A silver slip in amongst the golden leaves, half halted, trees standing to attention like shrouds of soldiers, death moves among them and within it all a blooming light beams with joyous applause.

O, joyous applause. It’s a birthday present from spring yet funeral for winters tide. It holds the ebb and flow of waves within each strong breath and glistens in the midst of blissful breeze. There is song, solom and seldom none but the trees themselves to bear witness.