Old man winter
Stop rattling your bones at my door
Your craggy knuckles tap, tap, tapping
Fine filed tips scratch, scratch, scratching
Rotted teeth chat, chat, chatting
Autumn still has time her Own
The geese have not all up and flown
Bury yourself down the musty hollow
‘Til Solstice your bride calls, “Darling, Follow”
E.A. O'Connell
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