Prairie Poetry   
  End of Autumn

So close to winter,
only a few brittle
leaves remain.
Sparrows nestle
near the ground
against a sharp,
slant breeze.
I look across
the fallow,
the horizon
mantled in gray,
all thoughts
cast into
the solitude of day.

  Donna A. Ryan
  Copyright © 2004 Donna A. Ryan
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