And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves...

 My girl Carmen:


Remember midsummer: the fragrance of box, of white roses

And of phlox. And upon a honeysuckle branch

Three snails hanging with infinite delicacy

-- Clinging like tendril, flake and thread, as self-tormented

And self-delighted as any ballerina,

just as in the orchard,

Near the apple trees, in the over-grown grasses

Drunken wasps clung to over-ripe pears

Which had fallen: swollen and disfigured.

For now it is wholly autumn: in the late

Afternoon as I walked toward the ridge where the hills begin,

There is a whir, a thrashing in the bush, and a startled

pheasant, flying out and up,

Suddenly astonished me, breaking the waking dream....













































































































































































































































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