On Beauty and Sadness

I. They sit they watch, these cats - they do at the door, ajar, and trickling in is this evening light, which seems to idle, mid fade. One turns his head and looks with eyes intelligent, and wisdom filled. II. I wonder how beauty and sadness are often confused. Is it that some things are too beautiful? Does it pull at the seams of some cosmic wound I've tried for my life to understand? The feelings that beauty evoke are like sad tracings on tissue paper. III. Through the door I see greens thickly shimmer in this breeze that I can almost hear. I imagine the greens turning red, then brown, and falling; in their short poetic way, falling until, at last, they vanish under the trembling paws of animals, men, and the hush of a longer winter.