| Near The Little Church In The Wildwood |
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The mountain azaleas darken full-dressed While sleep works worries into pennyweights. This rusted stovepipe land lays insect blessed. |
| Just who loves whom tonight cannot be guessed But shy barn owls attempt to narrate. The mountain azaleas darken full-dressed. |
| Wildwood Cemetery strays beneath Potts' Crest, Great-grandparents relax behind its gates. This rusted stovepipe land lays insect blessed. |
| Firefly porches hold ballgloves at rest; A Toro's dripping gas on garage slate. The mountain azaleas darken fulldressed. |
| Grant's dogs tip the trash for a patience test; Worms here live another night unbaited. This rusted stovepipe land lays insect blessed. |
| And most seems well that's not been repossessed: A postcard moon, frog songs, the interstate. The mountain azaleas darken fulldressed; This rusted stovepipe land lays insect blessed. |
| Christopher Cox |