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Read to Me!


Leaf and Branch

Those of us at the top
Wave summer goodbye;
We flourish and fling
To the wind's cry,
Unlike the middle limbs
Who shiver and bawl hymns
From a noisy dread
Of the cold that lies ahead.
The saddest, though they deny it,
Are those who hang heavy and quiet
At the bottom, knowing the worst
Is watching your friends go first.