As Summer leaves
her sandy curls dance
in the glow of a full moon.
And Autumn, in all her sunburnt
array, is ushered into Summer's
place.
With the season I remember
I must change too
and Summer's blistful and radiant
days of solitude transform,
not die,
into Autumn's good graces,
unified in the ballet of life.
Autumn marries the youthful
Summer to wise Winter
preparing us for possible chills,
yet quickly we learn of Autumn's
intentions; for as Summer's leaves
abound, we understand that with
death there is always regeneration.
__________________ "criticism is as inevitable as breathing"
~Eliot
