is it really a process?

When the seasons of this earth changed chilling the warmed soil with purposed tenderness, I noticed only the crushed taste of the air as it eased onto my tongue and the bright minded days that then became timid with the nights' silence. It was at this state of vigor, when I still hadnt yet begun counting months and seasons past that I drew my first sip of water from the basin that would soon demand the whole of me...