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Autumn Winds |
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As summer winds die so late in the year, Wild birdsong fades till it's too faint to hear; Humid heat turns to a balmy soft breeze As green turns to red on tops of the trees. Old leaves turn crisp as they skirt 'cross the grass, Clear early dawn reveals frost on the glass. A certain chill grows as autumn draws near As summer winds die so late in the year. --2001 |