| The cool wind blows and I revel in it's familiar embrace. It catches tiny wisps of hair and begs them to dance out of joy for the season. The leaves have already begun their dance dressed in their best colors welcoming the autumn breeze. I gaze with wonder at the annual fall ball, both comforted and amazed by it's beauty. But with this beauty there is a sadness for as the leaves dance, they are also dying. But this sadness is not theirs, for this dance of death is their finest hour. They dance for the season, they dance for themselves, and they dance for us. All we have to do is take the time to watch. |
| The Dance of Death |