Seasons

Sprout growing in fine sand casting a shadow

Seasons of the year are practice. That’s what I think. We practice death and resurrection over and over again.

The natural world changes to show us that time is in motion. Summer will come. You can’t stop it. And winter will follow. But spring follows, too.

None of the seasons are permanent. The motion never ceases, and motion is one of the signs of life.

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