At altitude, winter arrives many moons
Before her appointed time. Red, gold, russet
And orange leaves desperately cling to conifers
In a vain attempt to hold hands with fall just a bit longer.
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Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. E.K.L.
There is something romantic about the first snowfall just like the first day of spring. I enjoy your writing. Thank you for reading my poems.