Ashen sky peels back into Lady Twilight's skinny leotards.
The days are getting shorter, our long johns will soon need washing.
When I think of fall, I think of crows.
How long have you been waiting for me to arrive?
Did you not see me on Doka Bridge,
when you were shoeless and in stripped pajamas?
Did you not feel me cover your back in Amsterdam,
even in America when you jamming the jazz streets of Harlem?
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