Time passes with the reverence of the touring sun.

A new age of colour and prose pose in the frame of shifting perspectives.

Littered in the rings of seasons, are tales of warmth and chill, romance and

piety, and a new found defiance of frigid fate.

Where the tree sheds its covering leaves, in freezing steam.

Now Burnished by the flame of autumn's freeze, fallen, crumpling, under

scrutiny of wandering feet.  

Where once all things bright and beautiful flourished preened and green.

Tuft feathers of plum canary gathering in company of the lone hibicus flower

whose leaf was yellow flourished but all now headline acts of mostalgia's

script.

Time passes with reverence of the touring sun, and here we are now, back

where it all began.