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Corn Hut Talk
Write your wishes
on the door
and come in.
in the pools of the harvest moon.
the handshake of the pumpkins.
There’s a wish
for every hazel nut?
There’s a hope
for every corn shock?
There’s a kiss
for every clumsy climbing shadow?
Clover and the bumblebees once,
high winds and November rain now.
for rough weather in November.
to sleep outdoors when May comes.
something useless to remember you by.
a sumach leaf from an Illinois hill.
In the faces marching in the firelog flickers,
In the fire music of wood singing to winter,
Make my face march through the purple and ashes.
Make me one of the fire singers to winter.
Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.