13 May
1974
It is red in the distance
Where the hills lie low
Scrubby, and a few scattered firs
Upon the grey of the earth
Or last year's dead grass
I really don't know !
It is what lies beyond
To the far end of the earth-line
As the earth, grass and trees
Abruptly mingle to become one
Into the serene unknown
For that is why
I cry so often
In my fruitless pine
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