Height of summer
any day
is paradise
nothing can fail
nothing can fall
your medallion sun
is in its august throne
Behind the cirrus clouds
autumn clenches
a stealthy fist
you do not see
the hole in the sky
where all the leaves
and breezes and branches
Dance spinelessly downward
robbed of nerves
anesthetized
through the hole
the old man punched
fear not, for you
a blanket is coming
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