In New Hampshire to close up the cottage:
Sharp autumn light projects panes, six over six,
Onto the pine floor, oiled yellow gold
A color not unlike the alder and witch hazel by the pond.
It is October of 2001, a time of love and fear.
The next morning, colors muted, umber in the mist,
We cover mattresses with newspaper: Taliban, anthrax scare.
Easing out onto the lane, we do not look back this time:
This of all Octobers, questions best left unasked.
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