SH 217
217
The leaves begin to yellow and the crows
Contrast the other death of what will green
With green; a whiff of ice unnerves the lean
Unhungry cat, who questions with her nose
The yearly wisdom of this north. There glows
One low-lain aster, daring not to mean
But just to put some color to the scene
Before an end of color that the rose
Abandoned long ago to Ragnarok
And bookshelves heated with the book's brief kin
That keep the worm contented with the book,
But I will wear the living skin as skin
To wake as always, go outside and look
And touch the planet for the Word within.
...9/27/05
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The cure for a lie is always the truth.
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