Advent Vi

Earth-fainting but rising, returned to the light
through greenleaf arcadia, the gaunt elder guard
knew the first stories of the two-legged wanderers
by the scent of the firehills, in the air of the kingdoms.

By every late leaf of an old summer's autumn
there were always the children, in hope and glory,
always the children, rosettes of their days.

by Eric Ratcliffe

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