The sorrows of all they have seen slowly drip
Off their long, light, green branches and leaves.
Sadness fills the pond.
Dusk calls the loons to fill the sky with their calls--
Such sad calls from water's mirror surface spread
Through the woods and echo off the mountainsides.
Sadness haunts the woods.
The evening's mourning doves give way to gray owls,
Whose deep, full, sorrowful songs cause cool shivers
To spread through everything small, creeping, and warm.
Fear fills the dark woods.
As morning breaks, I wander. beside the pond--
My skin is clammy in the dew. The crickets
Chirp their last, and I find that I still miss her.
Fear haunts my sadness.
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