That Last Winter.

Staring through the screen door,I can sense that the weather outside is just the way I want it to be.
One of those weathers-cloudy and breezy,but the atmosphere fosters no rain.
Yellowing little leaves on the drumstick plant hang from the fragile branches,like rivulets of liquid gold.A subtle announcement of the Fall.All at once,I wonder if they would feels as delicate and pretty in my hand,as they looked upon the framework of branches.A few top branches have begun to bare,they jutt out skyward,like scars proclaiming their sacrifice.
Flashes of inspiration hit my subconscious like a million string lights turned on at once.
I decide it's about time I cease the moment and slip on my oldest pair of flip-flops and run out into my garden.Posting myself below a short,shady banana tree I watch my garden grow.
Grow,in it's prime..before window strikes a chord with it.
A large cluster of lilac flowers burst into bloom-the dynamic manifestation of life itself.
A double hued rose stands apart,averting every that may ever pass by-for it is warmth and brightness unfurling in the form of it's petals.
It's then that it dawns on me,the epiphany that dawns on over and over again.
Every event takes place in its own time and right,there is no forcing upon at all.We deceive ourselves that we can change the pages of the unwritten.
Nobody can rob me of this contentment I am brimming with,for it is only mine to control this instant.
The mishaps and daily triffles that momentarily upset me stand no comparison to the sense of belonging I feel.
What's good and essential and lovely is already mine,for have conquered in the mind's eye.