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Generation

The flower head is set to burst wide open.

Dormant in this tired space,

Matured and rooted by the year,

It sways in gentle rhythm with this slowing autumn time.

 

Bulging now with future life, it stands

As testament to nature’s cycle.

Soon its seeds will spread afar,

Exploding silent and unseen, like time and time before.

 

And from the casting of those flyspeck seeds
...

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