And yet this beauty also makes me feel so sad.
Throughout my time in prison, I have used the seasons as a measuring stick - always hoping the particular season will be the final one I see through a prison window. Autumn tells me yet another year is drawing to a close and I sit and wonder if I shall have to be in prison for another autumn?
I remember a poem I once read which ends... "nothing is certain, only Spring is certain"
[My handwritten original - click here]