The Beginning of The End?

In the dying afternoon
leaves burnt by the sun
tell of winter, nigh too soon.

The light changes and in quiet moments you notice. Where I am it was a magnificent day. There was a moment when it all seemed so fragile and short-lived. Not that seasons are difficult to bear here, I know of worse places.

We humans like to think we are self-aware, and that sets us apart, but we expend a lot of mental energy holding fast to denying the obvious fact of our finite existence. We do this in spite of the current of the seasons that runs around us each year. Who knows, it may be the fact that the seasons cycle back to a new beginning each year that convinces us somehow that we are above this cycle and, therefore, not subject to our own. But look around and there is evidence to the contrary that we ignore seemingly without effort--the deaths of our grandparents and parents, the aging of our bodies and our minds. But that's enough. Back to breathing in and breathing out, it's October and it is splendid.