It seems that nature’s aged somehow
Grown pale and brownly edged
The days have fluttered past and now
All the chicks are fledged
Ripe seed pods burst along the way
And spray their content green
While those who walk the path each day
Will see a changing scene
As yet the trees stand proudly leafed
And there’s no red and gold
Tween summer’s heat and winter’s grief
The year is growing old
Changing Scene
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