Crashing waves wash away your permanence.
Chasing away the inequity of man.
A transplanted farmer’s tan, lingers a touch longer.
Tide us over until the New Moon.
Like squeezing water from a rock,
me like a hurricane.
Summer’s last days.
Wind picking up, in a serious tone.
Leaves leave trees on a leisurely breeze.
Fall down deep and crisp the soil.
Dog droppings play hide and seek among the yarmulke yellows, rosacea reds, greedy greens, and broken browns.
Air feels fumic on the lungs.
Naked trees reach up into the sky.
Clouds push down and leer at the hills for their obstinacy.
Plastic bags caught on power lines flip, flap, flippity-flappity.
Solitary traveler whistling past the graveyard.
Traveling toward the final embrace.
Numbness, sweet airy buzz.
Apply the thing that makes it stop.
Reverent resonance required,
batteries are included.
Winter will come,
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