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Not Even Posterity Gives A Hoot

But I kept a journal regardless.

(sonnet #MMMMMMMCCLXXXII)

So listen to the goldfinch laugh, whiles thence
How sparrows gaily chatter, and t’avail
Hear even thrushes call as wont, the pale
Blue heavns sans cloud likeas your eyes fr’intents;
And sip espressos in the Sunday sense
Of sleeping calm whileas we talk, to hail
Sae many things until I think, in frail
Excuse, of “cloud battalions” sans defense.
Yet noon culls shadows as huge racks now tour
In greyish white, the Maple leaves’ thick crew
Half whispring as their boughs rock, just astir
Where blue skies peer through gaps, a sense of you
Within their look as I feel restless, fer
All that, apart from you. I love you too.

15Jul18b

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