Text 10 Apr Autumn vs. Spring

Autumn wins.

Autumn wins. Autumn always wins. But that’s just because Spring doesn’t need to play the game, and Autumn knows it and hates that.

Spring’s got that devil-may-care in its eye - it knows what’s brewing: arms bursting with blossoms, ideas of life scattered creeping out of shuttered, wet places. It’s audacious but it’s still finding its feet: summer is where the party’s at, spring’s chill with the setup. Spring has a song in its head and can’t stop dancing, doesn’t care.

Autumn’s got a mean, fatalistic streak: every breath burnt with a sigh for what’s to come, even as it is falling over itself with the harvest, hoarded for colder days. It’s giving form to the yet-unborn selflessly, seeds whispering quiet dreams of spring. Autumn is worrying and accepting and feeling the chill of inevitable stillness. Autumn shakes its head, wisdom lingering in its smile: the sunshine in a pumpkin is every bit as good as the real thing. And really, everything gets better once you let go of the fear.

Autumn wins when it’s spring. Spring just runs.

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