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October Twilight

The sky pools red this Hallowtide.We enter, ease into a pew,And whisper prayers for those who died,For relatives she never knew. They’re my lost souls. She wears all blackFor later when she’ll trick or treatAnd thinks of candy in her sackAs I write names across the sheet. Midway through life, . . . . Continue Reading »

Cutting Down Chrysanthemums

“What we call the beginning is often the endAnd to make an end is to make a beginning.The end is where we start from.”              —T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets (“Little Gidding”) The end is where we start from. This last choreOf Autumn must be . . . . Continue Reading »

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