She, like wind changing on skin,
dusk winking slowly to darkness.
She,
Spring unraveled and
lazy Summer sunshine.
She, Falls’ fire on a thousand fields,
tumbling over,
rushing to Winter, blooming out,
a wet leaf heavy with summer sun.
He, one of those searching for his season,
searching for changes in her
winter breath,
where she: Pale Moon,
holds him,
drifting in her candle-smooth tides.
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