Ali Placido

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In the outdoors we learn the rhythm of nature.
The new-born spring, flowers breeching the damp soil,
heaving themselves from the earth to claw through the underbrush of last years leaves.
The humid excitement of summer, a
time to desperately sing the mating song,
knowing nothing lasts forever, even the lush green leaves and thick humidity of the riverside.
Fall is a charnel house,
losing its lustre in the scent of loamy soil.
Quietly winter creeps with long shadows and crystal cold,
lulling the land to sleep.
Until the sun returns again.

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