A Poetic Prose Piece

Under the full moon, smiling iridescence. Undulating prairie grass sways in rhythm with the predawn breeze. The grass stalks green two weeks ago, gone gold to brown. At the edge of the flat distance a dip, a glen of sixty-foot aspen trees flutters brilliant yellow leaves in the pip of the dawning sun.

Deeper in the forest, the dark shade from thick foliage sends the upper branches to reach higher, always reaching higher, drinking light for strength. Wavering in a wind composition to horizon a conch-pink sky.

Dead trees, on the sweet earth, cloaked by moss decompose in animal scat married to fallen leaves rotting in the earthly froth.