“It was a day filled with the glow of ordinary things.”
by A.A. Milne
She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
“Winter is dead.”
The remains of old autumn keep me mindful of mortality giving way to immortality.