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Poetry and Medicine
January 9, 2018

One Minute

JAMA. 2018;319(2):196. doi:10.1001/jama.2017.13821

The maple leaves abscond
with summer's green rain
on such little stems
connecting to spring's essence,
summer twigs' foliage,
the company of the living.

But now they shrug off
their red-gold existence
as if they'd never inhabited
the verdure of the undead,
drifting to a ground
hardened by sudden frost.

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