AFTER THE HARVEST, THE FEAST
When Orion starts his march across the sky
We know the year is drawing to its close--
The geese head southward, with their mournful cry,
And Earth relaxes, seeking for repose.
Now is a time for memory and reflection,
So many years elapsed--how many more?
Yet we refrain from gloomy introspection,
To hear old codgers croak is quite a bore.
RR 10-18-11
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