949.

Nature little more
than yet another endless
repetition. Turn.

948.

Dissolution of
self rebirthed into the next
cycle of some life.

947.

The answer to all
its riddles in that simple
action. Death for love.

946.

The first salvos of
dyslexic feeling to start
this month of flowers.

945.

A vicious lesson
in juxtaposition by
emotional drought.

944.

Some needed response
to the desolation of
a season without.

943.

The mockery of
gestated love expended
out on just one day.