The stillness of an attic
Room where wind has failed
To penetrate only
Motion tender space

Takes her place inside clay pottery
Where green leaves reach light
Through the window dusty
Tea-tree from Hawaii

Outside huts, last preparations for
Winter. October
First Saturday hammers at work wild cut-
ting blades at play.

One expressed in blue
Enduring nips of cold morning gusts
Enjoying Winter
And her steady arrival a star above

Watches over and warms kisses of
Forgiveness before
the snowstorm betrayal far away
among dull abodes – the solo

The Strummer plucks the tune calling clumsy
Urging the hero
Our hero
Out of grey shrouded den.

Trees dancing feverishly abused
By cold wind dropping
Final excrement


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