Ahh, glorious fall.
Face toward the mid-morning sun. Temp in the high 40s.

Leaves, sumptuous shades of red, rust and orange, flutter 
like crisp butterflies.
Sweet fresh breeze, fringed with refrigerated chill.
Twisted black limbs of forty-foot
oaks stretch a shifting canopy above.
Bright autumn sun
beams golden light, caressing warmth.

My heart swells. Nature – 
so often cruel.

How is it that nature is – for me – so often a comfort?

Nature offers me no love in return.

She offers only
the consistency of the seasons,
the reliability of the moonrise,
the freshness of the air,
the sweetness of the rain,
the playfulness of the snow,
the warmth of the sun,
and endless beauty.

What more is there?