KNOCK ME OVER
Herald the green fields, call
out the red. The old barns are
leaning with machinery that
died a long, long time ago.
The robins have fled.
-
This is the Autumn of the year,
and my own life is somehow
yearning for Winter. Though
that is strange, it remains true.
-
There's nothing else to do but
knuckle down to work, as cold
as it may get. The bare trees
are empty, but I live on yet.
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