I sat upon an Autumn day, where brown envelops green
and thought on clouds, both white and grey
that reflected then my dreams.
But answers, still elusive, swayed in secret through my mind,
with hollow sound in echoes played to cast a beat behind.
So stranded then, in mottled glar ‘neath leaves a dying hue,
I thought to catch a passing star for pastures fresh and new,
and skip by moon and mystery, to find a look returned,
that’s shadowed not by history, nor clawed by angels spurned.