Two stumps, couchant
and grandly gnarled
as oriental lions
in a den of autumn oaks.
Shade imminent
and closing in,
like year and years.
The far west campus
readying again
for its more serious
purpose,
the pause of summer
done, ephemeral as
summers past;
these great truncated
beasts,
creatures of time itself,
laying
a heavy paw over
the paper-lightness of
its bones.
—Christie
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