German shepherd with a cone around
its shaggy neck.
Clump of black-eyed Susans shivering
next to an empty pizza box.
The rattle of a shopping cart
being pushed behind the bushes.
A mash of acorns scattered
at the edge of the church parking lot.
No more will drop this year.
You no longer need to cover your skull
as you stroll beneath the oaks,
though you still need to watch out for
the black walnuts, the horse chestnuts,
the promises that rain down like stones.
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