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Autumn Nocturne

A seasonal poem, written by one who currently resides in the northern hemisphere:
The moon's not right,
It's short and thin,
Too cool, too lean,
I do not mean
I really want
To end the light.

It's just too black
Too bleak and weak
To make a shadow
In the night.

The moment's mad,
It's off to worry
About the changing earth.

It's difficult to see
Richness or delight
Of warmer loves in flight.

The night is dim
And with exotic terms,
Neurotic and unkempt.

It's fall again,
The sky is strange,
The light has nearly drained.

The beach, the sea,
The casual retreats,
Now covered with debris.

City people sleep
Beneath their blankets,
Cuddled, safe, and deep.



Glen Wheeler
September, 1993
Vancouver

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