On a spring morning
Short Story by: kilgoretrou77687
The morning had a dampness that penetrated what, at the time seemed to be everything in the realm, a dampness of renewal, a catalyst to decomposition. I stared out from the sidewalk at nothing in particular. My gaze brought in everything from ruffing leaves in the forest across the street, to the acute shake and gyration from the hummus below. The damp old leaves of ancient years long past, shifting with the various decayed wood of fallen trees, both shifting and merging, embracing and destroying; each becoming the other, each creating something new. They say spring is a time for birth and new life in this world of light yet, they neglect the fact that new life cannot be created without the end of an old life. This new life is really rebirth, renewal; a completion of the cycle.
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