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AN: A reposting of a previous effort, hopefully incorporating many of your fine suggestions/thought/ideas. Version 1 from about a year ago, this time of year. Version 2, today.
Version 2:
Autumn
Summer struts in dormant fields
boasting of seasoned grasses that
roll on tides of wind, dried brown.
The sun rides the shorter sky now.
Autumn’s sway is like a mistress
who resides out beyond town's margin.
She seduces men with a sultry yield of
pumpkin, squash, apples and corn,
and the mysterious gourd.
She winks, letting go October
And we follow.
Version 1:
Autumn
Summer lies forgotten
in far away fields
The busy Sun
Rides the shorter sky now
She winks
Letting go October
And we must follow
------ The worst thing in the world is the homesickness that comes over a man occasionally when he is at home.
- E. W. Howe
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