Concentric Circles

by Ed Robinson

The sparrow flies on molting wings.
Feathers drift down through the spring air.
The sun rises, blazing over a summer sky,
And rain gathers into clouds, fluffy and white.

Autumn drifts across the cooling landscape.
Night falls to harbinger the coming of the dawn.
Chill winter winds bite deeply into human flesh
As stars twinkle invisibly behind blackened clouds.

Trees fall as if in aftermath,
And forest's children hide in their homes.
Spring will soon come again,
But first, winter must be allowed its due.

The price of night is the fall of man,
And spring's first light, its reincarnation.
Like the phoenix, its ashes fall off,
ever present... ever falling free.

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