Pressed against window
Plant is trying to come in.
(A fear of winter?)
The light is harsher;
Soft rays of summer have gone;
Starkness of winter.
In the middle of brown
Golden bush blooms on my lawn
Forgetting seasons.
Soft clucking of hens;
Deep rolling trolls of the goats;
Morning barnyard sounds.
Old, gray and sagging
Out building has lived too long.
Still, it stays standing.
Old barren stream bed
Carries dead leaves and sunlight
And dreams of water.
Between two high wires
Last night's moon, shining faintly
Sheds a blue gray light.
I take just one step
And move from the bright sunshine
Into peaceful shade.
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