Its almost like an inward glance, you can see them
Turning now, before they look dead, or the weather
Is even cold enough, there is the slightest of tinge
Color lost, or turning round, it is hard to explain
Yet you can see its coming, feel the rhythm of its
Death, clutched somewhere in the signs of the
Season and we turn, changing, recognizing inner
Signs, it is not a seal, but a sign for us, change
If we can, turn if we will, make a difference and
Be that flower, a sign to others of what we can be