An Autumn Outing in the A.M.

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His sinless-white chest shakes as her harvest-red lips continue to confess what she has tried so hard to conceal.

His lake-Michigan-blue eyes
ache so.

Trees paint the descending hail the color of acorn squash.

So when it melts,
the earth is covered in a golden shell
like Midas' kingdom.

I dream in my pewter blue sky.





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