…the moon is the guiding light. The air is crisp, birds are none to be found. Autumn hangs on, like the last leaves to fall. Muted green of olive bushes, alone reflect golden beams. The clock has spent its time. Alas! the days are longer, the light is stronger, and winter won’t be far. Sleep deeply under the evening stars.
In the dark forest…
On Tiffany Creek 