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Clusters spring from the mounds
Assembled acorns form shapes of crowns
All the fair folks sing
Unto the wise who know to listen
Sleeping creatures revive
Woke by the faintest pinch of the pines
My own lyric ceases as a song arrives

Oh oh, oh oh
Otherly Opus

Autumn calls down the leaves
Tells the maple “Drip from the trees”
Sends out invitations
To unwrap the gift of seasons
What may come after these?
Age of sciences and of dreams
Medicines, inventions, and philosophies