Wednesday, October 9, 2019

Minimum Requiem for an Era

Hard not to think, days like these,
Of Keats’s ode "To Autumn”
And the lines about the bees.

All our hustles still bustle;
All our roads remain busy,
But extending our summer
Has just made us uneasy.

So hustle bustle harder.
Don’t let the quiet begin.

No patriotic orchestra
Wants a first chair air violin.

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