Writing Prompt Wednesday: “Observations on an autumn afternoon”, a poem.

The leaves of a treewhose name I do not knowCling trembling stillamid other branches bare and brownAnd spot the ground beneath my feetblood red against the mudand shining rosy goldin the autumn sunDipping so low alreadyat not-quite-four in the afternoonMeanwhile an old gnarled hedgesee her name I do know squats nearbyits branches reaching farand tangled []

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