Day 363: The seasons slip by so quickly. The autumn colors had barely begun to touch the leaves ten days ago, and now the wind plucks them from branches with the lightest touch. A bird alighting among the branches inspires a shower of reds and golds to tumble into the pale and fading grass. Seen too closely, brown edges appear, and holes made by insects. The beauty is in the quick glance, the broader perspective, the total canvas. Therein is the poetry of the dying season and its splendor, an impression of color on the eye and on the spirit.
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