At Season’s End
Catapulted through the landscape
As if shot by a canon
I propel myself through summer’s dry fields
The rushing sound of the bailers
Sound out the end of another season
As a warm breeze engulfs me
With contemplative melancholy
I recall bearing witness to their growth
Now to stand and watch
Yet another stage of transformation
A lesson in change I whisper to myself
If you allow yourself to see it
From seedlings they grow tall and strong
From mere ideas they have developed
Providing beautiful subjects for my lens
Now to serve their true purpose
And still my eye and mind find inspiration
Visualizing this cycle of life
I glide on past
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