The Imperfect Cycles of Life

Fall is coming. I can feel it all around me.

The leaves on the trees in the park and in my back yard

are starting to turn brown, and slowly drift to the ground.

Some of the streets are already lined with brown fallen leaves,

underneath trees still screaming with bright green ones.

 

And still, we have yet to endure the dog days of summer.

It will get hot again. Very hot.

And then it will cool down again,

as this imperfect cycle completes itself;

over and over again.

Until one day, it will stay cool,

and there will be no more green leaves.

And then there will be no more leaves at all.

 

And here in the west,

 

the sea breeze brings an early spring.

Soon there will be small green stubs on those trees;

nubs that will grow into leaves, fruit and flowers.

And it will still be cool, but not cold.

And then it will get warm.

And then I will have orange blossoms;

and then I will have oranges 

And then I will have peaches and plums

And roses.

 

The perfect harvest

 

of the imperfect cycles of life.