71: Watching Winter


This old bench has braved the changes, and, perhaps for its lonely place has long enchanted me to sit and share in its story, or receptivity learn. Under strained Apollo’s grace, reacquainting myself with a Winter scene when playful Aurae dance upon the atmosphere with jovial abandon, weaving and brushing glassy chimes whose tickled laughter is symphony of children’s revelry. The arterial bough that splits the sky has long ago cast off her lush ribbons and contented seeming with her nakedness displayed, owns a most essential refinement that nature consents yet ever struggles humanity against. We too, in due season must, without arrogance our gifts receive, and surrender them without strife.


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