An Infant's Epitaph (Aug. 17 - Sep. 9, 1943)

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I came for the end of summer
to listen as the crickets,
tired and parched from the dry August heat,
reached their final frantic octave.
And beneath the window I waited,
Shaded by the lilacs and my mother’s white curtains.
Waited for the dog to stop barking,
the soundless white lightning to cease.
And then one evening,
when the sky was right,
when the crickets began their lullaby,
when the curtains carried a breeze to sooth my fever,
the dog came in to sit by my side
and together we both were silent.





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