The dude with the s'more bucket
Just walked by. We're at a lodge
We can't afford in a part of the country
Hard for us to ignore, where the snow
Hangs on into late spring. We love
Being crazy. The swallows circle
The heritage silver clouds
Of the high-country evening.
I've never seen so many swallows.
I had not thought life had undone
So many. Oh, but they're hungry,
Cruising for gnats and mosquitoes
While one furious raven complains,
And the splits of timber in the compass
Circle of the outdoor hearth just for guests
Collapse, spark, and point in all directions.
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