I walk toward a stream, in early morning.
The dawn is just beginning in the east,
And I have planned an hour or so of fishing,
But nature is presenting me a feast.

A wondrous feast of visual delightment,
For Fall is here, and frost highlights my view.
The sea of grass has turned to brilliant diamonds,
And Sol has added extra colour too.
For when I move my head to gain perspective,
The spectrum of the light presents itself.
And I can see a thousand tiny rainbows,
As though through many prisms on a shelf.

I raise my head to see beyond the rainbows.
My focus falls intently on the stream,
Which gurgles gently round its many outcrops,
And wets the rocks to make an icy sheen.
I do not move within this glorious vista,
For I'm afraid I'll make it disappear.
I try to trap it all within my memory.
A sight like this will last me for a year.

Gone is the time I'd set aside for fishing,
It's time to leave and I've not wet a line.
I feel depressed, until I search my memory,
And playback 'frosty morning' in my mind.