Age

The gentle hum of an autumn day
Hangs in the air like an unspoken

Act of a gallant act of love

That strikes open the soul

Of Mother Nature herself. 
On such a day as this 

It would be easy to miss 

The gentle nuances of a twisted core,

A Bramley ready to fly,

A leaf resting in sodden earth.
Here she stands, 

In Earth that settles in the knowledge

That cold days must follow,

But for now the moment

Is to sit back and sparkle. 
And how has age affected her?

Her skin is not what youth 

Had visited upon her

As moss stretches across

Her still stretched form. 
What is time that it might control her?

Where is the Morrow of death or destruction?

It will surely come

But why waste time

On such doleful thoughts?
The years have taught her

That to be kind and at rest

No matter what,

Is the truest way to live

As though eternity is a given. 
A X

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