A pang, to see the grasses of late summer

And the dry branches standing ruddy

Under evening light

She reaps harvests from her window

From the pages and the diodes

That bring her the world

A scant three hundred feet square

Where there is nothing to constrain

And everything to own

She discards the weekdays

While dwelling on

Late summer sun


5 thoughts on “Rest

  1. Ah, my dear summer is coming to an end, and I am dejected by the falling leaves and the coming of autumn, beautiful as it may be, it betides the advent of winter. Uuugggghhhhhh !!! 🙂

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