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Autumn Solitude
by Nick Zegarac

You must remember September,
Its rustic cool unexpected frosts,
showering the scarlet canopies
in gaunt and narrow
piles of galloping leaves.
Funnel winds twist and Asian mists lay
the crunch, crunch crackle
crispness of a steely dawn mounting.
Taunt sunbursts escape
through gray flannel clouds, then slip
Preparing for aged winter’s
crystalline whip.








         

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