WINTER
I have made notice of these
things: the wind that hisses the
rain back, the missed mark on the
side of each man, the herald at the
gate. There is no avoiding, none.
-
The waiter at table is spinning.
He holds glasses and a cloth.
Outside the window, the
promenade leads in
from a garden.
-
If this were another time of year,
I'd expect flowers and something
quite pleasant. As it is, all I get are
snows, and all they give is ice.
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