Approach

Approach

They sense a form of winter
drawing near;
the air brings them
the bleakest news,
I fear.

They bow
and thin
and weaken,
dappled dun—
and seldom rouse,
not even for the sun.

Their tiny souls
reverberate—
mine resonates
their dread,
especially when
I ponder on
the empty days
ahead.

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