The shiver of encroaching winter.
Slivers of autumn sunlight.
Cool blue skies evident
Through the thinning canopy
Of turning leaves.
The seasonal beauty
Of the created order
Waxing and waning
Brings balm in a way
No medication nor
well-meant words can.
But still the chill remains,
Not on the skin,
But deep within.
The abiding knowledge
That the summer,
Such as it was,
Is past.
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