Cycle

Through the silence and the night the troublous song
Is sung by whirring wheel and tender wind,
The crisp refrain of trodden sons of trees
That carpet, colourful, the path to spring.
As cinder smoke swirls in the breeze
And throws the journeyman in delirium,
Caressing boughs reach dawn through misty night
And dampen all to silence in the fall.

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