Awful & astonishing night will clasp at the leaves; at the coins of a ruined country: yellow maple; red procession; black branches. As I
Crows zig past a scold of clouds. Winds come and go in frantic bursts. Trees hasten toward the ground, then pleat the sky. All
As usual, I hardly felt the cold, or I felt it as I felt my own tongue in my mouth— gratefully. Freezing quiets the
Roll me up and call me Weakness. Or furrow something tender. Disappear into a hole hidden in the high grass, now say bask now