HAZY DAYS OF GREAT BEAUTY
As I surmised, the pumpkins are all withered;
dead now, they have fallen in on themselves
in the rows they lived in. Surplus fodder for
the tables of want. Ghouls and goblins, Toms
and turkeys, every living holiday passes. Now
it's but the fat one left : we pile up more junk
on the same table that was used last year.
This early Winter now approaches :
hazy days of great beauty.
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