Below the awning rest I
And refill on sunset glory,
While o’er ends does tumble try
A single fallen leaf.
Along a paved city path
The wind a burden bears:
Delivery of summer’s epitaph
To me who shan’t care.
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About Me
- R. S. Althaus
- The way the light filters through the trees, stretched so well above this brick path, gives the impression of being submerged in shallow water: not so deep that light would refuse to dance.
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