April enters through window
and in the morning glow he detects
more silvered hairs beside his left ear.
In a nascent summer he discerns
premonition of an untimely autumn.
Each passing day the greenery appears
to be fading by degrees.
He feels the breeze brush against his skin,
which is gradually and with a certainty
loosing its tautness.
Warblers get notably distressed
as days fall; squirrels panic at soft rustle
of footsteps. Trivial lives do read omens
by instinct!
Yet the thirst for a satiating springtide
corrupts him. Somewhere in the distant woods
a fire rages; twilight brings in a smell
of burnt leaves.
He adjusts his camera lens to focus
a flame butterfly.
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