In winter the summer
Nestles in greenhouse flowers:
There are doors we enter.
The sky's rainy grey
For tomorrow and today:
Finding the centre.
And it soaks us through
Winter clothes, world smelling new:
Enough to tell us:
The hills are baked dry
Withering under the blue sky:
What did we wish for?
Everything changing
Bright colours - death exchanging:
We're watching leaves pour.
And they fall to mush
It's not too much, but it's just
Enough to tell us:
Winter is coming
Door jammed with cold, shoveling
New ways to enter.
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