Today began cool and gray. Around ten o'clock
The sun began to burn through the clouds,
And now, at noon, the day hands suspended.
I'm waiting to see which way it goes:
Back to heat and summer glare, or forward
Toward autumn—its barred clouds and gathering swallows,
Its knife-edge tracing borders, its drops of blood:
emblems of what's been lost, and what remains.
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