Too much spoils the fruit:
theft, the inclement weather,
a season of loss -
despite the long hours
and toil of our arms, our backs
stiffened by the wind.
In the flight of these
crows – free-wheeling and scandalous -
there is much to praise.
Jacqui Thewless
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autumn-174/
