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Late Autumn
Above an umbrella
of amber and gold,
The crows chatter incessantly
in their crude language,
Yet fall silent when I approach.
What do they plot all day
in their arboreal domain?
What...
of amber and gold,
The crows chatter incessantly
in their crude language,
Yet fall silent when I approach.
What do they plot all day
in their arboreal domain?
What...
