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Walking, I came upon a carpet of red and gold,
Silken and layered, lustrous and brilliant,
And with each step, I confronted the past.
I wandered down the carpet as it wound
Like a ribbon through the past and present,
Leading my paces forward into the future.
A canopy of inverted colors - green and brown
Hung above me, with a wind at my back that
Propelled, coaxing me and whispered, "Go see."
The carpet as it rose and fell meeting my shoes,
And I removed them and to feel truth beneath them.
And I felt this truth, as red and gold leaves landed
One by one on cold black waters,
Watching ripples.
I wet my feet and watch the ripples roll away.
I smelled the meeting point of earth and stream.
I laid back on the carpet, where it broke off,
Looking up for some sign of life as I breathed.
And I knew then that the sign was my breath,
Drifting upwards from myself to the canopy.
I sat up aburptly, eyes alerted to a stark possibility,
Leaned forward, my face tilting past my knees.
I searched the black waters to search my reflection,
And, finding none, I worried what it might mean.
Panicked for a moment, I drew my feet back,
Dried them and pulled back from the water's edge.
The gallop of a dog bore down on me, her breath
Over my shoulder, panting, straining.
Happily exhausted.
I rose and spoke to her, "We've seen enough,
Time to head home - the light is on, and warmth awaits."
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Autumn, in its maturity,
Has a way of making you understand.
Spring is an indecisive, petulant child,
Summer a seductress lying to us with daydreams,
Winter pregnant with expectations and renewal.
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