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  • Sometimes I wish I were a tree,
    Where dying weeks brings forth new beauty,
    Of bright, bold hues on golden blues
    And crisp sounds underneath
    Hard Souls.
    Where shortened days, gray and wet,
    Fall victim to the chroma masterminds.
    Though short the reign of vibrant fire,
    Memories mourn the fleeting Fall.

    -Jessa Gilbert, 2012.
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