Thursday, September 18, 2003

The First of Fall

Daft and wild, the madman roamed
Down my street in the day of first turning
Turning leaves, and the early
Hopeless least, falling still green
The weakest failing first and
Foremost, in losing always first
His worn heels wiping through
The early piling, still green leaves
"Hear!" he cried, dull brown
Tattered trousers and coat
"The trumpet sounds! The gates creak close!
The work of the winds reaps the lightest and least!"
Howling he went, fluttering in his breeze.


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