Tuesday, July 5, 2011

The Month Before Autumn

Summer was here many days before,
A silent stranger at the willow's front door,
A creature with eyes full of skies, thick with rain
An island of heat in a field raw with grain.
Thoughtless with desire, dry with wind
Wandering, faithless, in the glance of a friend
Footsteps in dust, memory's shame
Memory of memory in summer's flame.

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