Posted: 12/03/2016 at 09:55
Seasons. Natures Reflections.
Magnolia blossom on leafless branches, flash beauty upon a backdrop of still frosted, covered and bare, but knowing fingers from the bough.
Winter is ending.
Under the open canopy, and out in the meadows, yellow, blue, cream and white offerings, wave their heads majestically, turgid above a young green swathe, upon which dappled light starts dancing through still almost naked branches of the wood.
Birds abound, dipping, swirling, answering, and calling to young that sing for food.
This is spring.
Now bees and insects still buzz here and dart there. Blossoms gone, their job done, and fruit are born.
Orchard arms bowing low with heavy yields.
And heads sway lazily in the sun, making gold the fields of corn, from above and all around is warm.
Summer is here.
Telltale hues not before seen, is news, that time is turning. Vibrant displays of leaf laden, swollen trees that forest hills now turned a kaleidoscope of shades, and fall.
To the ground, now hidden under a carpet of infinite and exquisite shapes that leaves no space.
Natures blanket is down.
And this is autumn.
Settled and waiting, resting; the charges for the next season sleep. For now their job is done.
Above, the crisp cold air give freshness to the damp past that was, and grasps all in a tight, icy grip. Nothing moves. Frozen and held.
A rustle. Movement.
Above, the light throws its comfort and all about life is stirring.
Blossom struggles; bursting against buds, not yet releasing their hold, for fear that it’s not over, too cold.
And yet Magnolia blooms, pinks, reds and whites scent the air with notice, and the ice melts, a seasons tear.
Winter is ending. Spring is here.