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Writer's pictureHannah Hemingway

Mountain of Leaves



Leaves drift slowly to the ground, 

I rake them up, making a tall mound. 

Cold air surrounds me, 

I breathe deeply, feeling free. 

I jump high,

And the leaves fly.

Laying in a bed,

Of brown, yellow, orange, and red. 

I am at rest, 

In my cozy nest. 


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