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Dec 2018
October 27th, 2018

The leaves have fallen
from the trees,
the sky is grey, like
the ancient, monolithic
glacial boulders.
A soft, chill breeze
blows from the lake
and freezes my
breath in the air.
Summer is fading
into winter,
dying slowly like
a grandmother with
dementia. Mother Nature
no longer remembers
the joyous heat or
the tender leaves of before,
instead giving us
the frigid winds of change.
Like the seasons,
everything changes,
everything fades and dies.
Like the green forest
winnowed down to twigs
by the cruel North Wind.
And it is as grim
as the storm clouds
coalescing ex nihilo
against the horizon.
R J Coman
Written by
R J Coman  21/Genderqueer/Wisconsin
(21/Genderqueer/Wisconsin)   
467
   Lorenzo Neltje and Fawn
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