Seasons

I wonder if the trees feel it too...
Feel how fast the seasons are whirling by.

Does creation feel the momentum?
The breakneck speed of the world?

Spinning.
Toiling.

Seasons of death.
Seasons of new life.
Seasons of waiting.
Seasons of growth.

One season is welcomed, embraced.
Then, as quickly as it appeared, it is gone, slipping into the next.

Seasons... long in the living become short in remembrance.

When you look back you see how much living was done within the framing of a season.
And how much was left undone, unexplored, unfinished.

In anticipation of the next.

The next season.
The next month.
The next day.
The next hour.

Live now.

In this season.
In this long, miserably, wonderful, short season.

For soon the leaves will change again.

The trees know all too well.