Why the shriek, headstones? Why in
this throbbing sun, this dip and sway
of wind-bellied August hay, is it you alone
who keen? Because it is not you,...
That immortal clutch of oak leaves
I spoke of? The ones immune to wind,
November, to the failing sun itself? Gone....
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10/20/2021 2:55:21 AM # 184.108.40.2066