Interim

The earth is motionless-

poised like a ballerina going still with the music,

the days are still bright

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and evenings a blissful orange with sweet breeze,

not at all betraying the migration of the birds

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or the way warmth heaves to linger just a little longer,

before the day comes when the trees would shed their leaves

on shivering cold wind,

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and wear bleak – grey day and night

with ease;

As the city drowns in the consistent pitter- patter of icy cold rain.

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