A Slow Crescendo
With each gust of wind yellow finger-like walnut leaves shower down on our heads– like large, yellow snowflakes– a foretaste of snowfalls to come. The sun’s shadows grow long as twilight nears. Soon the white cloud “lions and tigers and bears” will arise in the black of night. The summer has died, and in dying, gave birth to fall. The comfortable rhythm of the changing season beats in our sometimes unhearing hearts.
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