The Hunter's Edge

Morning falling filtered above, weighing, releasing, fluttering sky.

Sails abounding, open wide, painting the canvas of my eye.

Heaven's breath wisps around, gently flipping without a sound.

Seconds approaching, more appear, rays of hope touch the floor.

Glimmer glisten light up the night, fading and swaying fluttering sight.

Popping, cracking, knocking, smack, bounty scurries here and back.

Capturing life at every bend, not knowing when the brush stroke will end.

Quickly, carefully place within, time's a slipping, don't know when.

The Painters hand, His evident plan, it's all around, and filled with love.

Brilliant colors brush strokes fade, soon the canvas will be covered the same.

Rays are changing shades of gray, not to be seen again till spring.