Time

The passage of time is marked in the colors that surround me. It is found in the vibrancy of the new beginnings of Spring, the fading as it stands the straining of the Summer sun, the understanding of its impeding passing as Fall begins to slow life down, and its eventual death as time grows cold. So why am I so surprised that what began so lush and green fell to the deadening factors of time?

Cooling winter envelopes me in her arms as my surroundings succumb to a white slumber. Under her blankets I find rest. Until the Spring rays roll the sleep from my eyes. And I start again.