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| Photo courtesy of PublicDomainPictures.net |
Splinter
The voice of the last cricket
across the first frost
is one kind of good-by.
It is so thin a splinter of singing.
~ Carl Sandburg
I love how Sandburg sets a mood in just four short lines. Reading his words leaves me feeling a little sad and fills my head with images of goodbyes, autumn, winter, the passage of time, and so much more. What does this poem say to you?
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