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Fall Poem

It falls

like a hand over your mouth,
Autumn’s hush of colors.
The false blossoming
of gold into lush orange into faded yellow
into brown
into dirt.
 
Fate falls upon leaves
with the clinging of first frost followed
with the finality of Winter’s deepest freeze.
The air is choked with their fluttering
and falling,
this burgeoning of hollow fortune.
 
The crushing as you walk–
the ground littered with the wealth
of fallen things.
 
naked tree crop
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