The Wheel of the Year

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The sky is over-cast

The air is growing chill

The wind whispers faint

Fall is drawing near

Leaves begin to blush

Nights long, deeply yawn

As embers merry burn

So spins the yearly wheel

The trees are hushed to sleep 

The crows begin their flight

The corn gathered in 

Fall is drawing near

Air the winter clothes

Summer pack away

Sing merrily a tune

So spins the yearly wheel

Pumpkins full are growing 

The trees have apples shed

The hay cut and baled

Fall is drawing near

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