long past time to go
the wind still whips past me
my hair sticks to my lips
even though they are dry
like the leaves in the frost.
a concert of ancient instruments
forged from metals I can't name and stripped
trees pared to nubs, calls to me,
music I am hearing in between the soft beats of
hearts- I feel responsible for people
who do not care what happens to me.
I dream of endless acres of grape leaves
undifferentiated save their hypnotic undulation
from the heaviness of their fruit and the
pressure of the wind upon them,
so little time before the freeze.
time to pick, time to capture,
time to choose
and then forget.
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