Under the burning sky of Sunrise turning into the gold.
Secretly whispering with the Trees.
Spinning the chains of delicate gossamers.
Builiding palaces with pure crystals of morning dew.
Feeling the Sun touching gently my cheeks.
While the feet are cold of grounded moisture.
Smelling the Fire playing around me.
Feeling the Fire singing deep within me.
Autumnal Equinox.
Harvest Festival.