When the maple turned
The air wasn’t cold.
Colors say Fall and
The Season is walking
Through the calendar
With steady steps.
Time to go home is
Closer now.
Time to make ready
For the cold and dark.
We’re all waiting for a
New light, even while
This one dims.
The seasons walk through
The calendar with steady steps.
Some call it a circle
A wheel, turning and
Returning, no end.
But it’s a path
Twisting and branching
With unexpected suddenness
And an ending just ahead
Invisible.
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