100 Words

Life in Death

August 2005


The yellows, reds and oranges mix into a palette of warm brilliance in a chilling breeze. The smell of dying foliage and decaying acorns abound. The sound of brittle leaves crunching underfoot. The animals scurrying to pack away for a winters retreat. The final majestic pathway of nature before it falls to the ground to become the fertile earth of rebirth. This is my home. This is my soul. This is my heart. It is my place of solitude and rejuvenation. How very ironic that what I find most beautiful is that which is the prelude for death.

 


Original Upload January 2000
Last Update: August 25, 2006