próspero saíz

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the slow burning candle gathers emptiness—

there is   my love    no rising from the melting heat


Again I’m uneasy as autumn comes.  Soon the cold winds will drive away the barely lingering heat.  And scatter the crows in the hills. And the bright round moon alone will track my whitening hair.


my hair whiter

the crows soar

the river empties the day

bright moon

morning frost coming

autumn is upon me


glow of sunset lingering

birds gone to roost. . .

soon the cold white moon. . .

far away you glow. . . .

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