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Don’t look so sad, Ursula,
the trees are not dying.
It’s autumn,

the leaves are supposed to fall.
Look how gracefully
they spiral.

Remember their vigor, Ursula,
Keep that snapshot
vivid in your mind.

Forget that they turn sere
and curl like smoke
from a fading fire.

When your eyes feel the teardrops’ glaze,
remember, this is not an epic,
it’s just a season’s change.

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