Is it my heart that yet knows love. Are my fevered dreams longing wish of material exploit? Sir the lasting impression of your love has written sunrise on retina and dawn after dawn of exquisite scenario in unbreakable smile. Toes unfurled to meet the muddy dim at water’s creep. Musty odors of dog, frog and log waft about so thickly they paint everything in their pathway. Dew, flower and sky battle to exalt God’s name in indelible pagentry. Angels, Bright with the light of God’s Presence, shine upon the morning to remind it He is never far from shore.

Seeming Lull in Summer’s prowess whispers of Autumn’s attempted takeover. Beat by the heat of the street the gentle brush of cooler night’s promise brings thrills of chills and renewed vigor for respite. Turned up, rolled tight in woolen woven warmth night’s embraced promising toasty sleep and deeper dream in comfort of dawn’s later review. Pause and paws upon my face tell a story that Summer’s heat shall never tolerate. Shared Gospel promise of Spring’s Return in bounty’s realized and the ample warmth of family, fires and rangour over our favorite dish. As some pray some wish upon stars and mars and midnight for safety, surety and peace.

Heard about it all at the Mid Summer’s Ball laughing as if Fall spelled millennia. The crucible of sorts my bruises and our warts are all trophies earned in Sports as life hands out rewards and punishment. The day had come and gone the future lost in dawn the man just trundles on and fish continues seeking spawn. Up stream assembled team beaming with belief and work and wonder. A sky beyond the night in their Minds had burned so brightly offering splendor and tendering treasure without measure for considering overwhelming enemy loss. Head’s tossed in cool reflection winter’s breath so quickly mentioned that all wrapped themselves ceremoniously in wind’s brisk born bite.

It’s not that Spring is lost but as each head is tossed we think of world’s away and years wonder. To Ponder in one self the victory in wisdom’s wealth siding with the dragon all consumed the flagon and forgot for a fortnight that winter’s blight always ends verdantly, triumphantly in the seeded rebirth of bird and branch. Why then so loathe to change when sitting still appears so strange to those wondering along the range of reason’s moments rearrange. Each word a drop in blood stepping toward eternal flood of mountain, plain and bud by the overflowing Passions of a Righteous Judge. All will change and then be transformed for us again until that faithful day when everything temporary passes away revealing the dawn of time’s new accounting.