Golden light falls onto
Hazel, red beams reflecting
The meadow eyes that flutter.
Forest green resting above,
Overhanging and bearing
Sun-kissed leaves that are
Highlighted, bending stilled.
Shadows cast below,
The stark and unmet
Lines breaching daylight.
Nutmeg and pumpkin
Spices cave in, warm
And breathing slow.
Resting on wooden
Floors of hollow oak,
Back facing the sun
During peaceful slumber.
Soft fleece tucked
Underneath those
Twitching limbs that
Jostle before stilling.
The quiet brewing
Interrupted by a
Sound that flickers
Like a memory, aging
And fading into silence.
Creaking doors lay inside
Tired throats that whistle
In time to steady breaths.
Ignorant to the wind
Outside as she stirs,
Basking in the afterglow
Of late morning peace.
Nutmeg fur boring hazel,
Eyes of a spring meadow
Closing and opening slow.
She curls and continues
Her quiet sleep, autumn
Pumpkin in the sunlight.