Pee tree

Seasons change, and so did I

 

The Glory Is Fallen Out Of

the glory is fallen out of

the sky the last immortal

leaf

is dead and the gold

year

a formal spasm

in the

dust

this is the passing of all shining things

therefore we also

blandly

into receptive

earth, O let

us

descend

take

shimmering wind

these fragile splendors from

us crumple them hide

them in thy breath drive

them in nothingness

for we

would sleep

this is the passing of all shining things

no lingering no backward-

wondering be unto

us O

soul, but straight

glad feet fear ruining

and glory girded

faces

lead us

into the

serious

steep darkness

e. e. cummings