the changing seasons.

Some leaves fall 

Their weightlessness gives into gravity 

And down they go. 

There is no struggle. 

There is only the act of giving in 

Of letting go 

And detaching from the branch 

As the swan song of autumn plays. 

Each season 

Turning green to dead 

Fails to grasp all life 

One leaf 

Trembling in the wind 

Frost covering its edges 

But nevertheless 

Refusing to relinquish its hold

Sways silently, adamantly 

Against the coming winter’s breath. 

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