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fall poem

calm as that second summer
their beautiful hair
listen
up from the meadows rich with corn
a flying word from here and there
though i am little as all little things
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
glooms of the live-oaks
i saw the first pear
the dawn was apple-green
were it not for that singular smell
often is it not so?
for then without

 



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