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My window opens out into the trees and in that small place of branches and of sky I see the seasons pass behold the tender green give way to darker heavier leaves.
The glory of autumn comes when steeped in mellow sunlight the fragile, golden leaves against a clear blue sky linger in the magic of the afternoon and then reluctantly break off and filter down to pave a street with gold.
Then bare, gray branches lift themselves against the cold December sky sometimes weaving a web across the rose and dusk of late sunset
Sometimes against a frail new moon and one bright star riding a sky of that
The night was made for rest and sleep,
For winds that softly sigh;
It was not made for grief and tears;
So why then do I cry?
The wind that blows through leafy trees
Is soft and warm and sweet;
For me the night is a gracious cloak
To hide my soul’s defeat.
Just one dark hour of shaken depths,
Of bitter black despair-
Another day will find me brave,
And not afraid to dare…..
Clarissa Scott Delaney