Autumn leaves turn green to gold to rust. A bluebell clings to summer’s embrace.
The calendar turns another page. Memory clings to falling beauty.
The seasons turn. The sun rises and sets and rises again. The river flows and freezes and flows again, a fluid stream of time flowing freely through memory’s frozen banks.
The end becomes the beginning of spring becoming the end again and again.
And through it all, beauty ripples in seasonal glory unblemished by memories of clinging vines locked in winter’s icy kisses.
Life moves forward with time, never back.
Nature will always have its way.