Dying

Dying 

Summer dies to fall and leaves the warmth behind
Sometimes there is a touch of summer still on a warm day
And then at last she breathes her last breath

Fall in her restlesness
sweeps branches and cuts trees
So glad that now the storm can have its life
and she can show off all her splendid colours

Then on her cold bleak feet winter blizzards in
And rests upon all creatures of the earth

When spring comes and the buds unfold
the circle round, and again 
life unfolds,
life feeds on life,
everything dies to everything
again, and again, and again …

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