And the flowers dance when they fall

Gracefully flicking and flipping

Elegantly twisting and turning

Landing with a flourish

The way leaves usually do.

And the clouds grow ever more dull

Lazily drifting and dreaming 

Reluctantly thinning and fading

Passing by everything

The way rhythms usually do.

And the light rings clear as a bell

Insistently pulsing and beating 

Unerringly glowing and dimming

Unfurling no more than enough 

The way plans usually do.

And the sounds smell of sunsets

Of ends beginning to ripple

Of falling upwards again.