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Rain-light and rain.
Late afternoon.
And just beyond my kitchen window,
two young deer the color of fallen leaves
pass slowly through the green and yellow paisleyed air.
Big ears flicking. Pausing. Turning to look at one another.
They've come to graze
my neighbor's last frost-sweetened windfalls.
Golden Delicious.
Dozens a-bubble in the clipped grass.
I grow older as I watch them.
Count the apples.
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