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The sky is no clock.

My body wants to obey

its demand for sleep.


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The dark comes sooner.

Night will creep even further.

I wane with the day.


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Still light at waking

but pale; sun’s cheek tilts away;

we don’t face ourselves.


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Half-naked branches,

black, with yellow flags waving

gentle in the wind.


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Brisk air on my arms.

Colder days come, and the dark,

but this day: fresh, calm.


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