Looking past the reservoirs out to the hills.
Fallen leaves soften the trail.
A small brook trickles through the colors.
Sometimes the woods just describe their own picture.
Beautiful fall colors at all levels.
Windows in the woods only reveal themselves when present.
From the ground the colors climbed like a flame.
Oh to feel the power of the One who colors each leaf and needle.
The colors shine brightly without any help from man’s creation.
Maybe only the forest’s hardest worker built this.
I sat in the beaver’s back yard and took in the sights.
Just a little water running, but the sound filled the space.