I look out the same magic window
that is never the same.
Yesterday, all was still,
while today the wind caresses
the few tree limbs with leaves
and the yellow orange school bus whizzes by.
The sky is white, ready for rain
or a few frigid snow flakes.
The woodpile
waits for winter.
The logs are fast asleep
with their ends
darkened with moisture.
The evergreens, in their moment of glory,
display their rich greens and
mock the shedding trees
for giving up their year's work.
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