I like the light that comes in at angles...
and they both abound in an early fall morning...
the changing leaves become bits of stained glass...
refracting the light until a storm shatters & scatters them...
leaving once shady bowers populated...
with the skeletal remains of the summer...
and the parts of the kaleidoscope reshuffle themselves...
turning to brown on the ground...
before the chill wind of winter sweeps them away...
the morning mists gather...
soon to be marshaled as a damp, murky fog...
densely shrouding the land through it's winter slumber...
awaiting the coming of the light...
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