Summer is like a shadow; turn and it’s gone.

The seeds of another summer spin into the air, twirling, catching in spider webs and wool sweaters, sailing high in the sky, vanishing like migrating birds.

The wind carries them; the air stills and they settle gently to the earth, waiting for winter to blanket them in snow.

8 thoughts on “Tapestry”

  1. Three really nice photos! And yes, the seasons are in our blood, as your prose attests to. But my blood has thinned down here in Florida: it’s summer all year round by NJ standards.

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