Monday, June 4, 2012

Fiddlehead

Take off your shoes, old man,
And quit your complaining.
The light tonight is mild.
You still have your senses.
You sit in a green world
And tonight it is spring.

You remain in your world,
Your miseries are mild,
Sweetness fills your senses,
And the squirrel complaining
In the hemlock at spring
Loves life like an old man.

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