We all know how the seasons come and go.
Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall.
The beauty of each settles so quietly upon our brow.
Winter, all white, that startles with its chill to the very bone.
Summer that sends us to shelter from the heat (and we would rather just stay home).
They color each day with their changes before our very eyes.
They produce with wild abandon the leaves that fall upon the ground.
Just leaves on the ground, you say; a rather shallow way to view the day.
Green one day, red the next, or brown, another and crumpled at the end.
Leaves fastened hard to the tree, then loose and blown, so far away.
Shapes and colors, all on the move. Piled up here, gathered in some place there.
Then fly away in the fickle winds or lie, oh so still, at another time.
Once alive, and now very quiet to the eye.
Having done their colorful dance, they fade ever so slowly away and die.
Hey, my friends, let us all pause for a moment,
And take another look at the Leaves Upon the Ground.
