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June is done and Autumn is on its way.
The maples, newly green, are thinking season’s change,
planning colors with more pizzazz than last year’s.

The pines are drinking dew, knowing that they have
and need their own version of the camel’s hump
to keep them green all year.

Even the Balsams, noted for their preening,
are bowing their heads to time.

Oaks stand tall, holding the homes of sparrows
and squirrels in their limbs. Acorns, for the sake of posterity,
will show their faces later.  Endurance is their destiny.

And we, mankind in all our slants,
keep calendars to bridle the passing of time.

Thinking to keep control
we watch the sky for signs of change
as if we really believe God’s sharing His secrets.

He is, you know. It’s been said
that Nature is a lot like poetry;  with visions for those
who keep the soul’s windows open.

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