Autumn
Strange the clarity
In the autumnal sigh.
A sense of pause,
To contemplate the end
Of expectant times.
The dawn is darker.
As the pillow complains
Of unfinished dreams,
Broken,
By an intrusive day.
A whispering grey
Permeates the stillness.
A dew drenched haze,
Proclaims the ritual
Of the weeping trees.
But all is cycle.
And in its place.
The relentless truth
Of life and change
And change and life.
And still there is laughter.
Challenge and ambition.
An indifferent defiance.
The varied voices of the young
Play amidst the fallen hues.
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