The Seasons


It starts unnoticeably at first, a faint whisper to
tell of a change that is coming.
Gradually, ever so gradually, a gentle crescendo to
a rustle of grass and trees, as the breeze playfully
tosses the wind from leaf to leaf, and from
branch to branch
Everything is lulled into a rhythmic trance.
For some reason it is important to become part of
this symphony of movement. To become lost
with the wind, to wander aimlessly through an
amazingly lazy Summer’s afternoon - amidst the
distant rumbling of an approaching thunderstorm.
A oneness with Nature. lnstant inspiration.
Suddenly without warning, the storm takes
command of the entire sky, moving about freely
on the heels of the wind.
An instant and place in a wilderness where there is
room for just One.
Freedom found only on a Summer’s afternoon,
accompanied by an approaching thunderstorm.
Soon to be forgotten. Soon to give way to the
warm clear skies of a Summer’s afternoon, as the
winds of change drift through your mind.


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