This life of changing trees,
the seasons passing
faster than I care to count;
the moments golden
even in the slanted sun.

You speak of aging;
my bones listen and groan
but, oh, this sparkling autumn,
it claims the senses,
soothes with gentle hands

as the days grow shorter.
The stars that light the far off void
shimmer with a drunken splendor.
Great planet of the oaks and aspens
you cherish us

even though we do you harm.
It is as if you understand
the ways of puerile humans
and struggle to forgive
our transgressions against you.

I would say that we are sparrows
with nothing but faith to sustain  us
but then I see a sparrow, feathers fluffed
against the storm. 
There is much to learn.

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