Diffused in haze, pristinely breezed
dances autumn amidst the blooms.
A frore caress, its moonlight kiss
beneath the cloak of a morning dew.
Misted rainbow, painted frost-
chilled whispers of a promised hope.
Silvered winds through golden skies
weave bouquet upon a kindled soul.
Dear Diary, Today has brought with it a brand new day, along with its graying skies and chilled dew. As I sit here, the beginnings of a particular Shakespearean sonnet come to mind… “That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none,…