Lakes of soft crimson, brown, and yellow ripple at the feet.
Every leafy descent, a hypnotic beat,
Observed by the discerning few,
As the World waves bye to the morning dew.

Barren sun lined limbs lie in a cluster,
Hopes whiff and twirl with every bluster,
Startled birds begin to shuffle and jeer,
For they know winter will be long this year.

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