This is the time when the way of the leaf. The thing of turning, in a tree lifetime and with words, works for better days and this is just to stay. Kind regards and never leave. Or if you leave, be in forever ever. Or if the trees lose leaves, let the sunlight hold the tree. The tree will instant, all in good time.
All time, all good, all tree.
And if singing is a guide or poems made of marsh, then let the sound of filling fill. A moment is grand to taste. We have to be as we have. These trees are singular and moment. A hand is made to hold.
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