washed pale by the sun.
What do you see?
Is it snow swirling, whirling down?
No not snow.
A dance of butterflies?
No not butterflies.
Birds then,
Beat wings in flight?
No not birds.
You see gold and crimson autumn confetti,
Thrown by the wind to celebrate a change of season.
So beautiful and I can feel the brilliant shift of seasons in this poem.
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