Autumn Music

Late

on an autumn afternoon

trudging through

dusky roadside meadows,

I stop dead to listen

amazing pieces of broken music

scatter across this open field

full of mosquitoes and flies

tiny bits of hay left for the taking

I can feel only the end of a fading rhythm

somewhere close but unknown to my eye

Magic noise beats

down like an orange-red sun,

its edges

dull but piercing

my insides swaying along in perfect time

thunders rolls

over the finale and I am left

to the cornstalks for company.

.

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