These days they call
the Autumn of years,
are really no different
to those which would be
called a Summer or a
Spring, or even a Winter,
for, like the seasons, there
is the constant hold of our
being, and the changing
costumes, picked up each
day, dropped at night, found
again, and worn in different
ways. Through all the seasons,
earth, sky, tree remain as them
selves, but dressed in varying
ways, which give the feeling
that they are not the same, and
yet, of course they are, in essence
and form, the same as they have
always been. As are we ….
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