Beyond the Red River
Sp33dyColibri Oct 18th, 2019 107 Never
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- Beyond the Red River
- BY THOMAS MCGRATH
- The birds have flown their summer skies to the south,
- And the flower-money is drying in the banks of bent grass
- Which the bumble bee has abandoned. We wait for a winter lion,
- Body of ice-crystals and sombrero of dead leaves.
- A month ago, from the salt engines of the sea,
- A machinery of early storms rolled toward the holiday houses
- Where summer still dozed in the pool-side chairs, sipping
- An aging whiskey of distances and departures.
- Now the long freight of autumn goes smoking out of the land.
- My possibles are all packed up, but still I do not leave.
- I am happy enough here, where Dakota drifts wild in the universe,
- Where the prairie is starting to shake in the surf of the winter dark.
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