Time Catching

Spring's first day.
Blustery, blowing,
as cold as
winter's first blast.
As hot as blazing, relentless,
summer's sun.
As I stood, in the midst of the seasons.
I felt -ever so softly,
almost imperceptibly-
a brushing against my cheek,
a landing on my bare feet,
that I almost could not feel.
one, tiny, yellow leaf
that I saw in my mind's eye.
Frantically, decidedly,
swirling speedily to the ground-
as if heralding
Time, catching up to itself.
Seasons, catching up to themselves.
All at once, time's flying, compressing,
winding up.

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