the geese take to sky,

redraw themselves

into dots and dashings –

pencil marks

against

a bare canvas of cloud.

 

the rabbits

dub over the summer

held in their earthy-colored coats,

become whispers of white

to match the impending

sound of snow.

 

I think of the things

                                       that will eventually leave me

 

while the trees undo

their ragged crowns,

and show the leanness

of long winter bones.

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