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
26 October 2007
presage of winter
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