the beauty of a thought lies in the fact that
it is a gift of human existence
the greater the simplicity of a thought
the greater truth it holds
With eyes closed, you walk down a familiar path,
a path you walk down every single day.
The subdued sound of gravel crunching and grinding at the bottom of your feet, with the bitter smell of burnt oak and sweet poplar lingering in the air.
You suddenly stop and listen,
All is quiet around you.
There is not a sound.
You first hear her as she moves between the branches of trees,
embracing the leaves.
Then you see the trees sway to and fro, as she passes them by.
Finally she surrounds you.
All at once you are embraced by her and at her mercy.
She tempts you with the songs that she sings,
and the smells that she portrudes.
Among all things in this world, her song is the most beautiful.
The sounds, the smell, and the feeling of her embrace prepares you for the death of a dear old friend named Summer,
... and the lukewarm salutation of the Fall.