Bodies so ancient,
decayed down to marrow
mere calcium deposits
Jewels hidden beneath
stone, leaves as dead as this
mismatched village of
Warring Americans, witches, noblemen,
teachers, and infants
in their underground rabbit holes
So content, willing the
first leaves of autumn to
toss themselves earthward
In an effort to live
by dying in a patchwork
of sunlight and gray
And we were alive
and these spectres, by way of rustling
Leaves and bird songs, provoked
Us
to really live.
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