Why Cry to Heaven - Revised
Dark, my depleted garden
no furtive rays of sunshine
August weather, clammy as a snail
sauce redolent of aged shrimp cocktail
Peonies once lined up to burst forth
‘til their came a howler from the north
A sepulchral portrait, pleasing skunks and raccoons
~ They don't cry to Heaven if a garden is ruined
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