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An edge to the breeze
By the woods, the trees
Roar like bears, awoken
By their howling.
Maple, ash and sturdy chestnuts
Lose their leaves
All chasing in the swirling.
Though all is green
This is October weather
From the showery west
Time gallops away
Like a high horse
in clover.
No Curlew today
No sound but the wind.
The absent Lapwings
Need the peace
of lower ground.

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