Spring is when we are young – very young. We are learning to walk, speak, think. We don’t know ourselves. We shoot up, awkward stalks.
In summer, we own the world, we gloat. We shine without realising; we cover the land with our steps. We make love and we dream.
Golden autumn, they say, is the most beautiful season. For others, it means S.A.D. Now we begin to slow down, watch bits and pieces fall. A chill runs through us.
Then winter arrives. We see the seasons in others and remember our own; wisdom alone brings joy. We stop and wait.
Linda foto. Cada estação com sua beleza. Abraço.
This is really good. I dig how you make winter seems a reassurance especially after that chill of autumn (once perceived, never forgotten).