"This is a fruit of every season which carries the scent of its travels..."
My grandfather often repeated this little phrase to me when he was talking about his clouds. He has the best collection
...
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I have seen this movie before,
I know how it ends, with troops in the streets,
and the charred bones of buildings,
so I turn away from the ruthless images,
and, just as quietly as I can, lean
on the railing of the back deck
and wait for the gray fox to appear
from the dark tangled underbrush
into an evanescent strip of bright sunlight.
