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I found an autumn necklace in the hedge,
silken threads, strung with tiny beads.
Yet when I touched a strand it fell,
leaving only scattered tears.
We don' have a Springtime like some folkWho live in dem colder place,but we have a time when de soft rain come,an' tease open de seedcase
We turn our faces up and jiggle thirty toes,Morse-coding longing with our restless beat.When will it come?Shepherds on the first Nativity, we scan the skiesand huddle,
Aren’t you cold and won’t you freeze,With branches bare, you winter trees?You’ve thrown away your summer shift,Your autumn gold has come adrift.