AUTUMN

It was a green unmellow morning with the dew drying honey on the grass and the sky eyeblue through air like ice and the leaves clawclinging to the trees when I saw Autumn with the morning wind in his dew honey hair and the light of the iceblue sky in his eyes, and laughing, he knelt and dug his fingers into the earth.

I wrote this in 1971, clearly under the influence of Dylan Thomas and G.M. Hopkins.

Mary F. C. Pratt

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It was a green morning
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