Some Time of Year
    

       Some time of year, isn't it?
       Leaves falling all around,
       a few clinging from last year.
       I'm out at the dumpster now,
       the cool air
       moving through the bin.
       It whistles through the bottles
       and rattles the cans.
       Cardboard flutters up and down.
       All these bones 
       waiting to join their friends.
       My tongue worries inside my mouth.
       Yes. Another loose crown.
       Some kind of year, isn't it?
        
       

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