The package stood in the shimmering night,
as if held fast, in the lunar light.
It's contents were poison to a person like me,
a harness of shackles devoid of a key.
...
The brittle corn stalks lay in shambled delight,
a long faded memory of August's sight.
In the greenest of minds the eye catches on,
to the strains of labor frosty,a nd gone.
...