Zephyr drifting,
The first touch of chill in the last green of autumn.
Jasper peaks obscured in mist,
Empty mountains, timeless clouds, a fluting echoes afar.
White cranes dance in maple woods,
Swirling along, shatters of Terpsichore.
Brook warbles through the valley,
Toxicated in the amber odor of autumn.
Yellow leaves staggering,
One thousand years in a never-ending chess game under the pine tree.
Birds linger on and on,
Wings so heavy for the sough way home.
- "Afterimage of Autumn" - Zuriaake