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Transition

Updated: Aug 17, 2022

The trees are past their peak -

The season's drawing nearer

as our mountain creek

flows into a mirror.


A chill is in the air -

the scent of wood exposes

our former memories bare

to at last depose us


as bears begin to slumber -

the wind, no longer mild,

blows over stacks of lumber

upon the earthen wild.


The snowflakes are before us

Winter, now our host,

courts carolers in chorus

of songs we love the most.




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