Dryad dried leaves blow and burn and turn
he truth about—lets in a quackery of ducks
that ducks down so that
— the swimmer is in the water
as summer fades into
a hail of stones: like storms
so hale and hearty (Mnnn, Yummy ) The meadow
that stones that can fly in the night
in the howling storm
and not disturb the dust as it lies about soaking
the rose; it might…
