sequoia

falling leaves in the wind

a fox scurries past

shooting stars up above

into the thicket

to where the rabbit led

a foot on a tree no earth below

the cover of night

crows at sun rise

fog lifts on the horizon

startled to wake up

a lookout on the mountain

to find a fertile valley below

the touch of the dew in the tall blade grass

feet soaked in the mud

a running of the bulls

hour glass in a meadow