The Sun sinks on the Autumn Ridge.
I've seen her as she exits,
Viewed from way up high on the mountain side...
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The Sun turns her back and the dampness lays in.
My fingers grow cold and numb trying to write,
Sitting by the stream as it gurggles and gushes~ swishy and swirly.
A canopy of green, yellow, orange and red tower above us,
As splendid as any cathederal, Holy as any church.
If God is in the details- then surely He exists in this place...
In the light, colors, and sounds which fill the senses.
Walk slowly, keep breathing, struggle for the top.
Then turn to see the treasure spill out before you~
There IS a difference between being breathless from an excursion-
And being breathless from wonder.
Both have their place ♥