The full cycle

Snake-like, the cycle wheel goes while crushing leaves on the tarred road and leaves you wondering what is more wonderful - foliage that is just sprouting this spring or the memories of the last year that are strewn on pathways. You look up and the future calls with translucent green - fragile and yet sturdy and strong enough to last the summer and the winter after. You look down and you see orange, brown and red of last year's follies and foibles, fun and frolic - the past. Your cycle wheel crushes every crumpled reminder that goes "scrunch" on the road and that scrunch travels right up to your head through the rubber and metal. Then another attack of wind, forces down more leaves that shower down on you, covering you with orange, brown and red again. You try to weave past every one that threatens to attach itself to you, but they still do. The images of them falling down straight in individual spirals in a slow-motion-shot force your lips to turn up and acknowledge the sight. The permanence of this process of change that makes the whole earth be born again, taking you with it, taking something away and giving you something in return, keeps you in awe of perfection embedded in that which can never be perfect, permanence that is so ephemeral, meaning etched into meaninglessness and past replayed and recorded in that which is yet to come. The full cycle.