Strong breeze is blowing
Across the sun drenched bushes;
Lilacs are shaking.
Wind chill in the air;
Squirrel races across the porch.
Still, the bright sun shines.
Caught in the branches
Fallen pine cone still hangs high
With a new mom.
Growing round the stump
Yellow blooms ring the dead wood--
A funeral wreath.
Last forsythia
Hang limp, waiting for the wind;
Beyond them--lilacs.
Voices of the wind
Bellowing from the forest
Tremble the tall trees.
Pastel waves of blue
Lying deep in the forest
Light up the darkness.
Still no water flows
Under the makeshift wood bridge;
Only the wind howls.
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