Dance in the fall

In the hush of dawn’s first breath,

where the ground is softened by morning dew,

a silent grace emerges,

a fleeting shadow in the half-light.

You wander through the chill,

each step an echo in the stillness,

while the cold of fall wraps its arms around you,

and the world waits, breathless.

Your journey is marked by the crunch of leaves,

the rustling whispers of ancient woods,

a dance between earth and sky,

under the watchful gaze of trees.

The hunters come,

their presence a stark contrast to your quiet strength,

their eyes searching for the story written

in the weave of your silent existence.

In the quiet moment of surrender,

your spirit becomes the bridge

between the old world and the new,

a tale of life woven into the fabric of the season.

And as the warmth of southern evenings

embraces the land,

we honor the path you walked,

your life a testament to the wild's grace.

In your final breath,

a reverent stillness,

and we give thanks

for the gift of your presence,

a reminder of the fragile dance

that binds all things.