Leaves Begin To Shudder
A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;
with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter.
The passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads to mutter:
“Let’s pray for rains to cleanse the lanes, to rid the road of clutter.”
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.
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