la communité quotidienne naturelles

“Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself.” -Henry David Thoreau

notice

the grass growing weeds

around &

the wind begins to blow

blotting

out the horrid heat & humidity of

summer,

ushering in the beauty divided within the

vast

plethora

of

colors

when the maple & oak leaves change

painting

us upon a canvas of mountains until they

fall,

paving the ground for that first cold wet

snow

which in its very purity stands only a

moment

before it becomes polluted & corrupted by

our

filthy

selves,

but we wait in the silence of a blizzard

commanding

a momentary halt of

life,

for the spring’s fresh wash of rain

to start us all over

again.