Trees in our neighborhood stand mostly bald now, tall, dark tough
guys stripped of the leafy coifs that blazed with color not long ago.
Weeping willows refuse, however, to let go of their long,
summer-green tresses blowing silky in the wind.
Waving grasses sow their seeds, flicking them
crazy-wild.
Cattails explode as mushroom clouds in the wind.
Beauty. Adventure. Gratitude. Hope.
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