Summer has left us. In the much cooler nights The absence of mosquitos The honking of geese The butterfly meanderings The blushing cavalcade Of deciduous CRAYOLA. The bursting show tables Of Farmers Markets. But can we shed tears Living here in delicious Canadian change and Seasons? I think not. I have spoken with the dairy cattle Bunched in field’s corner fencing. Ruminating. They moo their contentment in Much of the above. In confidence that the warm Intimacy of winter’s shed Will soon arrive. The lanterns, the stored up hay. The smells of togetherness. The daily milkings From that kindly Man Or his pig-tailed Daughter. Singing the latest. And never rushing.
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