and put away in boxes
the trees took off their gowns
stood naked as if to mock us
the child arrived and soon escaped
there was a petition for mercy
from Lapland or Madagascar
which arrived too late
to forestall a bitter winter
each day was like a line from a book
but every day it was a different book
and your job was to put them together
a possibility as deeply rural
as any post-modernist churl
could care to get
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