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together gone

almost gone
the clover died
in one last dream
of heaven
and wrapped his chilly legs
around a sigh

waiting
as the autumn winds
were blown across his cap
and dried into
a fated hesitation

of one more time
of wishes blown
summer to his side
and gathered round his wools
for wandering

left to lie
in pastures
where the cattle know
his name –
stars are set
into the face of god

. . .