An Autunm Memory
On this dull chill and rainy dayWhen fall is roughly pushing towards
It's final flurry of clouds and grey
I recall a walk and its rewards
The street reduces from road to path
And begins meandering through the fields
A norther blows between the laths
That form the corn cribs drying yields
We glean the corn like hunting hounds
The ears missed by the farmer's reaper
Hand shucked kernels sold to be ground
For pennies a pound by a kindly miller
As boys we were left largely on our own
Pocket money was a rare tough trick
Hard shucked corn for the miller's stone
Produced quick cash for The latest comic
Poetry by josephus
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Written on 2015-10-31 at 21:52
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