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All things were naught but quiet…
Quiet as a babies breath
Not a meandering breeze
Nor dragonfly sneeze
Could pierce the Autumn's depth
Seasons caught …
twixt heat and cold
Juxtaposed, in deep repose
Seeming not to make so bold…
To decide ‘tween life and death
All things in a state of stasis
A thoughtful pause… (As it were)
When things with wings
And scaly things
And even things with fur
Seem to sink
into deep contemplation
As if to ponder, their fate…
In dark contempt…Or admiration
It matters not…It's much too late
For Mother Nature…once rested
Will release the breeze to the waiting trees
Will bid Jack Frost hello…
Then clothe them flimsy
With an air of whimsy
In raiment of crystal snow…
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
shows how seasons affect things in nature and man himself....good poem