At times like this and poems like yours I often think of primitive man and how he or she took little time thinking of the passage of time the way we do. To him/her it was a race until the next cold night to find enough food and water, combined with adequate shelter to live another day. But superstition reigned strong and almost every move was calculated by legend or taboo. A much more terrifying way to live than our clock watching while the sun shines.
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Regis. 🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁
Ron