Crisp Air to Remember

Sometimes I would think about you.

The way we were children and you gave me laughter and real friends. The way you made every fall and winter feel warm. And most of all, the variety you offered; creating a sense of belonging within everything new and intimidating.

And because you were familiar and accepting, while caring so deeply the same way I had been and lost my sanity before then wondering if there would be anyone that had the capacity in order to encompass equivalent energy.

It was a spark flickering, entangled in dry grass. Though a slow burn was necessary, the entirety of the field had been engulfed in fiery and flames.

Nonetheless, a new, cold winter arrived to freeze over the ruminants until a rebirth of organic soil came to surface for preparation of spring. The benevolence and blossom the Earth had long awaited.

At times, the Earth felt nostalgic for the way in which it would routinely dance with water through all seasons; fluctuating in a way that only made sense to them in the name of nature.

But sometimes, there are droughts strong enough to create such an absence that the Earth does not recognize moisture. They are in diluted forms, unsynchronized at this final stage.

And sometimes I miss the fond memories, however the Earth will inevitably whither away from such repeated misconduct.

Water should bring abundance of life to Earth, resilience, everlasting growth and bursts of excitement. It should offer care and an overflow of fulfillment cured by teamwork.

The Earth should bring a place of comfort and openness for water to be contained in a more delegated fashion. However, there's a need for the rain and rivers to pirouette freely among vegetation. There lies a requirement to be offered support and understanding to avoid runoff.

Both elements have a grasp on the others' needs, however, it takes communication and an overwhelming sense of desire to achieve such a forest they had planned to rule over.

Sometimes, I really do miss the feeling of my world being doused in new experiences, feelings, and love. But I got tired of drought season.

The duality of a dry field and a flourishing garden is ironic and exactly how we were.

Now, when seasons diverge and the transition becomes apparent in the air, I ponder what the field would've looked like in this timeline, in fond remembrance of the bright flowers of summer, or saturated leaves in the fall, or lights paying compliments to the glistening snow of winter.

And sometimes, I miss the way the air smelled and filled my blood. But, now it's spring and I have found a terrain that I fancy.

I have discovered that there's more good than when the Earth finally receives particles of rain to survive.

That's the bare minimum.

There are vines, and animals, and ferns, and brighter foliage. And now, The Earth has learned to dance with the wind, whichever way it flows. See fire as a new beginning, and appreciate it's own hues as they come naturally.

The fact of the matter is, Earth never needed the rain to unveil to her how exquisitely floret and greenery could grow, or how absolutely wizened the the grass could be drained from it's color once there was an absence.

And sometimes I remember the sunshine, but I'm glad the drought made it so apparent that plant-life grows deeper and more prepossessing without inconsistency.

There is more to life, more energy, more time, more copious love materialized with the power of this knowledge.

So, sometimes I miss such volatile taste, but it's a reminder to love myself more in replacement.

Being extinguished by drought is not love, it's theft, that I've learned to be grateful for. It's peace.