that Jesus Christ is Lord
and so leaves of every tribe, every tongue, every nation
submit to the wind when it's bored
when it musters it's strength and hollers in our ears
plays with girls' curls and scarves
the birds sing every range, belting "go home"
as the breeze moans a hollow alto
the boys laugh, wrestling in the remainder of the grass
which will dissapear next month in a blanket of snow
then lovers will stroll hand in hand
wondering at kisses, feet in heaven's sand
the smell of smoke lures us to a warm fire's glow
like a gentle reminder of June fieflies' show
back then the blades were covered with dew
now frost lightens them when day breaks anew
a plethoric array of languages exclaim the beauty in stillness
when dorm doors open each morning
only November's splendor fulfills this
with an amber sun. December's warning.
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