TOMORROW AND THEN?
The end of May will bend the bough,
a heavy burden for a tree to handle.
The first of June goes looming just
alongside the heave-running brook.
I swear that barn has titled since last
Summer; but, maybe, it's just the look.
-
Everything looks different in black
and white. Someone said that, in their
singsongey way, and I always agreed.
-
I suppose, in color, in sepia, or even
in black and white, we never know the
future, or at least we never get it right.
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