A Morning Song

Morning Song
Oil on canvas, 8x10

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Autumn's walked in, with crisp nights and soft, gray mornings, and soaking dew on the unmowed back field. I walk through hip-high grass, goldenrod fans, spikes of deep red blades, a fringe of feathery tan. The dogs romp and bounce and end up soaking wet, as we explore the field each morning. They see different smells, animals who've crossed before them, creatures burrowed beneath the earth. I see a changing, burnished landscape that beckons, new and different, every morning. I breathe the autumn air deep into my lungs and sing a song of praise and thanks.