When I Am

Spring and fall are probably my two favorite seasons of the year. For one, its not to hot and not to cold. Second I guess is the wind. Hearing it in the trees brings me this peace of mind that is just priceless. The chaotic symphony of nature with its crescendos, its pitch rising and falling and coming to a howling sound like that of some wraith improving a heartfelt expression of drama befitting of its condition.
With the wind comes the debris. In the fall it’s those golden-brown leaves being snatched up and carried away or just falling lazily like burned out stars to pile up on the ground beneath its benefactor, picked clean and changing the color of the world all around. 
In the spring, vibrant with the return of color, the blossoms have their moment in the new sun. springing forth, in the essence of that two-fold meaning of the word in itself, they decorate the tree lines with pastels before covering the world with the chaos of new beginnings coming to an end.
These two seasons are quite similar in the way they feel though. if I stand in the sun on an average day in either, I can let my mind forget when I am, leaving me to be in either for the moment. Then the only difference I find is that one leaves life in its wake while the other leaves death. However, in transcendent thought of this measure, which I compare with this notion of wake to tell which is which, I find nothing but more likeness between the two.

Salutation pending 
Johnny R Draper 

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