The leaves will soon turn shades of auburn for the twenty fourth time in my life. Darkness descends earlier now than it did only a week ago. I understand autumn but I do not find comfort in that. Some days you can feel her clinging desperately to the warmth of the sun but she was not granted that power.
The days roll on and slowly her grip is gone. Death prevails through the lands planting frost where life once grew. The birds don't quite sing like they used to.
But earth read the book of living and knows when the magnolias must bloom. I sit with her, my mother earth, in hope she will one day impart me her wisdom. For I cling desperately to the sunshine when I am blessed its presence, but I too was not granted that power. I know no winter, only the storms of Jupiter and I fear one day he will take me before I learn when my magnolias must bloom.