26 October 2007

presage of winter

we count each cold word
the leaves turn brown red and gold
autumnal blossoms

soon sun won't warm hearts
swiftly winter approaches
stark grasping branches

wind in the pine trees
promise of frigidity
waiting for new spring

summer terrifies
with flattening waves of heat
but winter's evil

we name each second
knowing how quickly they pass
time soon reaches end

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