A golden glow
wakes the meadow;
a silver mist
paints the hills;
the gold finch
sings a new song
from its perch
beyond the sill.
The thickets are etched
in amber and rust,
while scarlet leaves scatter
to cloak the summer dust.
The world is changing,
bidding adieu to a year,
and again I'm wishing
that you were here.