Seasons Passing

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Beneath the rolling of the clouds,
The sun declining smiles, gives me frown.
The wind, to no wall would bow,
Not even to the cedar, reddish-brown.
Awakening to dance with their friend, the breeze,
On the tips of their branches, the red ceases hold.
I in its midst, observe all of these,
Sigh to witness summer yield to autumns cold.
With one more Summer past,
Now I wait for winter.
Knowing it too, shall not last,
Its snow melting with springs cinder.

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