The dogs of fall return us to our noses
The smell of stars in the mossy air
While the taste of summer lingers
On our fingers the garlic and the roses
On the lake the ducks are late for mating
And the wood-paths stretch out
The promise of a yellow mood
A fading sound of wonder and relief
As represented by the rain and wind
Forcing us outside ourselves
How superficially summer lands
Now the skin is flayed away
Now we walk around the forest
Carrying our heads in our hands
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