the sun, its warmth on my shoulders, the
azure above all a cruelty of a fading Indian
summer. the ugliest colors flit about on the
street, colors of autumn, the harbinger of gray
rainy hibernating souls. deciduous trees will
bear none but tears until spring’s buds come
anew, green and bright.
spring so far off in the distance cannot look
back and see the gathering clouds this day
brings, the flutter of this brittle leaf before me
as it falls ever-so-quietly and pointedly down,
down to the ever-colder and harder ground below.
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