As Summer sweetens into a lazy haze, my bare feet find solace in the thick cool clover reminding me that my blossom friends will return again.

Hints of auburn and gold Autumn hide between pine needles and sneak up each morning after anointment of faery wands dancing through the night.

Late afternoons and darkening evenings glow by the silvery song of the tree frog.

He croaks outside the door to call in a mate and his voice is both sweet and sad. I hope he won’t be alone for long.

This bitter and sweet lingers on the air of transition, as I say goodbye to the last of the foxgloves and hello to the seasonal wildflowers that seem to come and go in a blink.

Life spans are shortened like the days and light, as a mystique rolls in on the Zephyr winds.

Change is rumbling through the Earth and our bones, as seasonal circadian rhythms take on a new dance with the forest creatures in preparation.

My feet sink deeper into the cool clover; toes curling into their memories.