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Leafless limbs shiver in the wind
overlooking their departed brothers
who lie below their times at end.
They blend now with all the others.

White clouds above rush all about
displaying blue between their traces.
And mixed within the wild geese shout
while they compete as their time races.

The small stream unseen until now
chuckles down at hill's steep slope
which loosens my stern brow
putting an end to my mope.

This season is ephemeral
a time of nearly constant change
which is seen by one and all
throughout the sylvan range

All seen beneath my old hat's brim
in the midst of a chilly afternoon.
Before the evening grows dim
I'll stay yet must turn home soon.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


to read you Stan. Very apt use of words with internal rhymes.
I especially like how you've set the scene at the opening stanza with the shivering limbs.
I thought we need to use the word ephemeral in this particular part, have I missed something here?


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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More likely I missed something. I'll check and see

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