PASSING SEASONS

A homeless empty wind

slipped the corner of late August,

searching for the last remnant of summer,

that final breath of warm air.

 

Cool nights marked the end and the

beginning of another season.

Daylight slowly drained away

familiar voices and sounds.

 

The chance of the future depends

on the passing of seasons.

 

We are reluctant to relinquish,

but faithful for change.

 

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