View From My Window
Forgetting Autumn While I am Away in France Listening to the June Bugs Sing
How hard it is to be
still as Autumn, as she sweeps
her gusty breath across the winds
of France!
France with its artistic black hats
and French bread, France with
its patriotic zealousy and whinny old men.
Living was simple;
the summers were pure, candy was pure,
sunshine was pure as a forgotten spring.
Then Autumn came, round as a June bug's
song, sweet and without end;
it took the night back
to the cold winds that fell again when Summer's
lofty brow
would not bend.
-April 14th, 2004
still as Autumn, as she sweeps
her gusty breath across the winds
of France!
France with its artistic black hats
and French bread, France with
its patriotic zealousy and whinny old men.
Living was simple;
the summers were pure, candy was pure,
sunshine was pure as a forgotten spring.
Then Autumn came, round as a June bug's
song, sweet and without end;
it took the night back
to the cold winds that fell again when Summer's
lofty brow
would not bend.
-April 14th, 2004
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Forgetting Autumn While I am Away in France Listening to the June Bugs Sing
Forgetting Autumn While I am Away in France Listening to the June Bugs Sing
