Stilled by quiet ripples, fall
shades loose leaves with
stolen colored bubbles; risen
from the wet, stony stream.
 
Beautiful bugs adorn calm voids
near the shore, unaware
in God's pure web of Justice,
that few lives are reclaimed.
 
The low, distant canopy closes
ahead, dark in moist fragrance,
provided by God we appreciate
in sense that hides the spirit.
 
When grabbed by all sensual peace
will flesh lead our spirit, still
so warmly secure from thieves
revealed in the spirit sense.