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  • Outside the deck door crisp leaves cluster in clumps. Look how they gather, as if they know they're severed from their source and time is limited and so they huddle together so they don’t have to spend their last moments alone. What do you say to one another in these final days? What can you say? Just huddle. Soak up and savor these last descending rays of sun, this your swan song. Soon the skies will close and you’ll be covered in a thick blanket of cold, you will wither, you will crumble and scatter out into the earth, and whatever thin memories of you remain will fade as quickly as Spring skies open to wash and carry you away.
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