Sea glass is mighty cool, like. When the bottle first breaks, the shards are dangerous. Time, that rotten shit fuck, doesn't break or bend or melt the jagged edges. Instead, time just rubs things smooth. So, by all means, indulge in mourning the autumn leaves as they drift by the window. But remember, the damp, crumbling core of a dying tree brings no spring buds. A dead tree's final duty is evanescent; the cockroaches, the beetles, the earwigs, and the grubs will enjoy the trunk for a season or ten.