So Much Sorrow
that doesn't stop coming
Like the parched landscape
in autumn
Or skinny deer
who wander in search of acorns
in a lead
mast year
Or tree swallows' fruitless
flights
to gather insects
in a drizzling cold
April
Like wilted September spicebushes
who wait for rain
perhaps
someday
showers will fall
and we
will be revived
once again
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