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Florence Weinberger-II

If You See a Red Leaf in Summer



If you see a red leaf in summer,

you begin singing Christmas carols.


How is it, then, the end of the road

recedes as the days grow shorter?


Is it the sad drag toward November,

the bite at the core of your roses?


You never slept through slow days,

you kept your eyes on gyrating birds.


Forget longing.

Consider the charity of heat on your skin.