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NOVEMBER

The sounds
Of the forest.
Rustling leaves,
The song of a bird;
Soft,
Lilting,
Almost hypnotic.

It's autumn.
Although the amber leaves
Fall
Profusely
To the ground,
The sun
Shares its warmth
With the top of the highest tree
And with the grass
Still alive on the ground below.

Thousands of trees
Suffering the loss of their foliage
Stand side by side
In close proximity
Wanting to protect
Each other
In their grief
As birds sing
Melodies that comfort.

Deep in the forest
Sits a lone rock
Unscathed by time.

I see
Eternity.

                                                       Annette Wexler

 I wrote this a long time ago and was thinking this morning about how quickly time seems to pass by as we grow older. It's almost November. 





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