Autumn Tree

Even if the sky were mediocre it would be more chivalrous than I.

Me, the gatherer of plastic goods…

the collector of false idols.

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My well traveled gifts are malignant.

But the clumping and crinkling of an autumn tree requires the best of me.

There in the rolling, ripples of a Pemigewasset river, a narrative to be retrieved.

Here in a forlorn field of dreams…a mystery.

Set against a leaning, lecturing oak…only intrigue.

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