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I Suppose it's Fall: A Poem

Writer's picture: Ryan C. TittleRyan C. Tittle



The leaves and acorns fall and leave a densely populated gram

on the cemented places that should still be nature places.

The weather is blustery, yet somehow

ineffective.

 

Frigidity is fighting the traces of Autumn like Jacob wrestling with the Angel

and wishes to suppress that blessed time where Summer is stilled

and Winter should wait its turn,

the bastard.

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