Looking for Joy

This woodland languishes, in sunlight and peace, casting a spell to slow my steps. Shrewd senses are conjured. Vivid velveteen moss drapes every stump and rock. Curled russet leaves collapse underfoot. Delicate, lacy lichen peels upon slender branches. The petrichor of warm, drying earth inhaled; I am heady with magic. A tiny twitch. Starkly monochrome amongst this autumn palette. I admire shining blackness from her crown flowing towards her pure white breast. Glistening treasures are placed reverently upon a folded, broken oak. What witchcraft is this? Her cloak, dark and iridescent, suddenly spreads and she flies; leaving me in sorrow.