Locky J Writes

 The call goes out," roll up the tents, close down the watchtowers". Summer in all its glory, like a vanquished army, heads north. Summer days, warm shimmery hazes all packed and plants unfurl their last flowers. Warmth and beach days, side by side, solemnly march forth.  In the rear, the last battalions of the sun bravely dance through the valleys.  No match are they though for the grinding trudge of the winter warriors.  With crinkled eye the summer sun assesses the losses,summer victories he tallies. As winter, with frost shields and icy morning spears, erects its barriers. The summer and winter generals stare across the battlefield. Both seeing victory and defeat. Both knowing there is a time to win and a time to yield. Both knowing it will be soon and again they will meet.  For theirs is the eternal battle, as nature does demand.  Of which both are just pawns and both must play their hand.  In salute they tip their caps, knowing that in fact they are friend not foe. But

Nature, the wonders we can never summit. Dancing water in the river of life never slows. Is it because we fight against it, Instead of going with the flow? I stumble and bumble, my way, Don't we all fight hard to persevere? Instead, if we just felt it, with it sway. No need to fight it, flow here to there. The earth has this way of dancing, Slow, steady but oh so intoxicating. Swing and sway, she is entrancing, The wind slides in, inebriating. Subtle, sexy, change of seasons, Like a funky slide guitar. She has her reasons, I'll fold to what they are.