Diorama

Beneath the amber hush of fall,
Where leaves like whispers gently fall,
The meadow spreads a golden rug,
Warmed by the sun’s late, fleeting hug.

The cattle graze in dreamy line,
Their shadows long in slanted shine,
Each hoofstep soft on rustling grace,
A brushstroke in this tranquil space.

Two lovers sit by willow’s lean,
Their laughter low, their silence keen,
A flask of tea, two hearts in bloom—
Their murmurs melt the afternoon.

The breeze, a bard with scented verse,
Composes tunes the skies rehearse.
Their fingers touch—no words remain,
Just breaths that blend like mist and rain.

The world becomes a painted frame,
Each branch, each gaze, a tender flame.
This autumn field, this soft tableau,
A diorama’s golden glow.

So let the cattle roam in peace,
Let love be found in simple ease—
In quiet glades where stories start,
And seasons sketch the human heart.