The Cold of Autumn

That tree outside my window
is tapping to get in–
and I don’t blame it.
That tree must be miserable.
Windblown, rained on,
and now unfortunately balding–
the warm glow of my lamp
must seem awfully inviting.
But this is no port-in-the-storm,
and that tree is no wayward ship.
Let it tap away all it wants.
I’m going to sleep.




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