Sweat even pouring from the flowers
A harvest of bites and elderberry wine
Drunk on the deck overlooking the sun rise
On unraveling fields and woods
On the farms of our brains
Season of rain falling like horses
With a few refrigerators thrown in
The lightening of a threadbare conscience
Washed clean as a fallen log
Waiting angrily in the yard
To be coaxed into fires and kindling
And that last romance
Of sunlight in the corner of the wall
As if it was the first so brilliant
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