Tomorrow

Nearly winter. The leaves are swept
from each tree by the hand of rain.
Now I know it's time to clear the porch
of summer.

It hurts to leave yesterday's green days.
I cry. Then, remember the beauty of
naked trees the fullness of the
pine and fir.

First, I let go of mums, fuzzy orange
and red leaf blooms.
It hurts again. I go on.
Look at soil and see
winter's joys of life.(hhn)

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