Mother

 

The distant hills held an impression
An impression of history
History that was once, is now, and will be
Much had passed, more would come

There were trees upon the hills
They showed both their age and their grace
Timeless
Yet moving with time as the wind travelled
on its never ceasing journey

The leaves twisted and turned, struggling to
maintain their grasp on life
Yet the wind gripped at them, pulling, pulling

As the days wore on, larger numbers of leaves
began to change their hue
Tinges of gold and scarlet began to appear
The nights were now colder as the days
were shorter

Many trees were almost bare while others
refused to allow their leaves to flutter downward
to earth
The struggle was in vain, the outcome inevitable

More moss would grow on the north side over
the coming winter whilst the trees slept and
the hills disappeared under the coat of winter

The imperceptible change would come again as
Mother one again bore the fruits of her labours
The hills and the trees would flourish once more
and the days that had gone would be forgotten

Only two things were needed to accomplish this
Time
And for man to leave Mother alone to her own
devices

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