You’re frantic as a squirrel
Trying to get fall sorted
And stored before it’s too late—
Too late for what? It’s over
Already, and you’ve planted
The makings of a forest
In your hiding place. Oh, wait.
That’s right. Wrong analogy.
You were supposed to find things,
Find things for others to read,
Not gather and hideaway.
The nights are freezing. The snow
Has started lacing the heights.
Stop. No more writing. Don’t write.
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