Harvey S. Mozolak
the days have become crisp
even small rain no longer refreshing
but shivering sharp and unhinging
driving flesh and bone
to jacket deeper
and wall against the coming
time of unwelcome
among barren stalks
that were once trees gifted with shade
which winked the light
and branches in the open
bright with blossoms
the draining green will mock
this fear in a small margin
that will not allow hope
to gather long
for coating shadows grow and reach beyond
the closing door
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