leaves fall like hollow words
onto the paper
onto the street
the sun finally making
its grand entrance
letting the yellow stand out on its
own
& the sugar maple coming home
late
this year the whole world
must be watching
empty suits and stolen satchels
ad nauseam
say something new already
waiting for the forest
to rise
above the ashes
somewhere there's gotta be a
rainmaker
the white pine
have shed their brown needles
it would appear now
in our ignorance
that all is well
--- e b bortz
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