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A Triad of Tanka VIII: At October's End
Calm, coy October
Brings forth melancholy days,
The emptied branches...
And all harvests put away
Before warm mists leave the fields.
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Tumultuous Fall,
After spectacular blaze
At Octobers end,
Stripped of all her finery
Rejoices in rude nakedness.
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Where more mellowness
Or more agreeable days
Than when October's
Sparkling and mosaic beams
Spilling over branch and bough.
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Copyright ©
John Fleming
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