Hands of Time

Flowers have faded

Like memories gone by

Petals adrift

They find places to hide


Nuts fall in rhythm

One, two, three, to the ground

Where some are buried

While others wait to be found


Mushrooms make their way

Up from the earth

Out of darkness

Comes a time of new birth


While the leaves glow

Bright yellow, red and orange

Then float like embers

Down to a land that’s foreign


A landscape that’s changed

By the hands of time

That turn the soil to compost

From where new growth will climb

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