the changing of the seasons.
yellowing leaves fall in the september blades of grass.
and so, a cycle is dying as another one is being born, at every moment, endlessly, for all time.
when did the cycle begin?
when will it end?
each gentle, singular, beautiful, unique ripple in the drying skin of the yellowing leaves suggest a state of infinite diversity.
an endless amount of variety, a plentiful and playful universe we get to call home.
did it ever start?
will it ever end?