Pinnical leading,

senses pleasing,

we winterize in

slowdown flow.

The dead and the dying,

sting of high winds drying

the tears in all alliances

with seasonal

robust, overstuffed

honors, bounty of

anticipated sugar,

inspirational hope,

dark magic of the year.

Dirty secrets, hazards on the

runaway,

unfolding

traditions with generous

pressure, matched

bright lights across

the ever earlier night,

mobilized remarkably

for the migration

of familiar feathers in flight.

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