*Carl Sandburg - The Fog.....
“The fog may come on little cat feet”* But Autumn eschews silence The thick crunch of crisp fallen foliage Hastens the homebound honking of gaggled geese Soft whispers of falling rose petals Fade into the haze of hoarfrost Cold winds whistle wildly through naked Maples Flags snap loudly to attention A brutish barn cat recoils from the touch of snow Squawking ducks slowly slide across an icy crust Chattering children board a school bus Winter awaits its curtain call
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