gilded leaves on branch
rustling before the fall
summer's black rebirth
I write about the power of words to shift how we think and feel.
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I love the contrast of golden leaves with ‘summer’s black rebirth.’
More stories from Kathy Tsoukalas and writers in Poets and other communities.
There’s a place where the water swirls when it moves, as if remembering what it feels like to emerge. It's better to be alone here,
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Without trust, even the most beautiful truth is just another lie from fickle mind & mouth
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Comments (1)
I love the contrast of golden leaves with ‘summer’s black rebirth.’