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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Nature >> ID #494893 |
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You can almost smell it in the air - There is a crispness everywhere That stirs your soul and memory Leaves begin to drop from the tree. Lying there upon the path I tread Are leaves of gold, brown and red Picked up by a sudden gust of wind Settling down to earth again. The summer flowers have gone by A few of the more hardy really try To offer at least one more bloom I shake my head, it's much too soon! Time to transplant and separate The gardener in me cannot wait; For the time to harvest comes to all, This is just the beginning of fall.
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