Tuesday, October 25, 2016

where the leaves greenly beat

if it were summer surely
the robin would be here
singing of forever
and mapping near

the colostrum of the bushes
where the berries redly heat
the fireplace of the branches
where the leaves greenly beat

if it were summer surely
all the apples on the tree
would be blossoms only
and not the shrivelled skulls I see

but it is winter already
the slip and slide of snow
is upon the landscape gladly
and only ice and frost do glow 

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