swept up with warm gusts
convinced of the flannel softness of you--
this poet in gray can waltz down back roads-
and be swept up with warm gusts
tightly rolled bales of hay, lightly resting
musing at the quiet spaces, as rests-
between scores of Chopin, and Debussy
swerving untouched
through the curves of country roads-
dusting off the yellow jackets of bees
as they perish, drunk on the honey-
sweetness of pink and yellow flowers-
throughout the warm waking hours
this poet in gray can waltz down back roads-
and be swept up with warm gusts
tightly rolled bales of hay, lightly resting
musing at the quiet spaces, as rests-
between scores of Chopin, and Debussy
swerving untouched
through the curves of country roads-
dusting off the yellow jackets of bees
as they perish, drunk on the honey-
sweetness of pink and yellow flowers-
throughout the warm waking hours
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