Tl^e Wa;v? Things Die
world has just been created when it's springtime. The towering trees Hft limbs rejuvenated by sun warmth and spread their fingertips out to brush the sky and touch the infant sun. New leaves and blossoms unfurl in sticky newness, and everywhere around you, fi-om the sky to the ground, and the whole of nature, throb life and rebirth. It's the gentle transition from the dark, chilling winter to warmth and extraordinary color. The sky, now August in appearance, It ages, however. suspends a glaring and merciless sun that beats moisture from the aged plants. Thirst is everywhere. The trees, arms lifted and waving with each how, grudging gust of wind, seem to plead for rain. Dust scratches over the parched ground. Nature holds its breath. There is stillness in the expectation for salvation. And then there is transformation. In obedience to the though the It's as
season,
it all
array of
entire
The colors grow vibrant in a ftirious The sun now sinks to its westward bed in And walking through the woods, if you stop and
begins to
autumn
nameless shades.
alter.
tints.
all human noise, you'll hear the showers of leaves fluttering from their noble heights to the ground below, the wind gently nudging the creaking boughs, see the glorious vault of sky arch and extend to distant horizons. Halt all thought, and you will hear the eloquence of artless abandon in t he way things die.
cease
Carrie Zoch
