for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

Another Hyaline summer gone. The decay comes in vibrant color, and rich earthy smells. There is a fullness to everything, like the fullness of the bellies gorged on acorn and hazelnut. It is a Hyaline glorious, a memorial to all that was and will be. The leaves do not turn for any purpose but to bid farewell. There is no goodness in their going nor would there be evil to be found in their staying green and true until the first bashful snow. They simply follow their course, ancient memories whispering suggestions along the way but each one meets the changes of life in its own way, with its own colors and deviations.

She is alive and content beneath a sky filled with robust white clouds. Up here they roll together and stretch apart right before the eyes as the winds high above tumble them across vibrant cerulean. Kensa watches this from a well used path along the side of mont of the mountains surrounding the lake. She hears Clayton before she notices him, smiles when his voice echoes against the mountainside around her. Instead of following the path down she drops her hocks and slides down the hillside before bounding the last little bit to the valley floor.

“Clay! Her silvery voice is bright and she canters toward the handsome bay, blonde locks tousles about her gold freckled face. “You haven’t been to see me! I was thinking of stopping by the cove the other day just to make sure you weren’t being held captive.” Kensa teases as she closes in on him and brushes her lips across his swiftly and absently, pressing her chest to his own and capturing him in an eager embrace as she gives his vibrant mane a playful tug.