winds
blow hard this day
whipped
leaves, cut into skin,
with
their dried edges
though
protected with clothes
duplicated
to ward off the chill,
this
brisk November day
while
wind chimes sing
remembrance
of summers
breeze,
and I sing along
in sync
with Chickadees
who
scour the garden
searching
for seed
as I
seek warmth
to relax
the muscles,
and fall
into dreamland
soothed
into sleep
under
feathers of down,
natures
songs echo
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