The leaves begin to turn their colors from the green we
think is natural, although another month reveals space is what they always are,
to reds and oranges and yellows. As a side note, notice none
of them are blue. I am looking at their clear reflection in the high slack
river.
In the middle of this mesmerizing symmetry there floats a
bright red navigation buoy. Call it what we like.
The river of our universal being always sends a sign
to pay attention to its underlying current.
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