POINTS OF COLOR

  Life.
		The greenest absence of death.
			The buzzing whirling winds of change.
		Each raindrop returns to the sea.
			Each blossom gulps from the staring yellow sun.
			     	      And turns its light to the pink hues of spring.
  Life.
		In its highest points of color.
			The gentle, contented breeze.
		Each minute takes an hour to crawl by.
			Each cloud drifts at the lazy pace of the summer sun.
			     And the only clouds in the sky are the fluffy white.
			  Of the warmest winter quilt.
  Life.
		When it exhales.
			It slowly fades away.
					From green.
			            To brown.
			To red.
			  	To whispered, sleeping white.

- Dan Schubmehl

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