Too much spoils the fruit:
theft, the inclement weather,
a season of loss -
despite the long hours
and toil of our arms, our backs
stiffened by the wind.
In the flight of these
crows – free-wheeling and scandalous -
there is much to praise.
Jacqui Thewless's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Autumn by Jacqui Thewless )
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