Poems by Triplane Builder - William (Bill) Woodall
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My wish is not for untold wealth (so's to live a life of ease);
Though I could do with better health---(the absence of disease).
My want for now, is close at hand-involves last seasons shade;
I long to see my green grass green-no brown-ness over laid.
I've raked; I've swept; I've mulched; I've mowed, and carted them away;
But since they're all related-more immigrate--and stay.
They whirl in unseen eddies and get beneath the door;
Don't wait for introductions to make it to my floor.
Today again, I fought the fight and braved the west wind's chill,
Sought hard to get their up-wind source and grind it down to nil.
But even as I view my gains and sense it time to stop.
New reserves tumble into view-(they're from my neighbor's crop).
Winter's snow is now forecast-- and though I've done my best;
The objects of my efforts--- well know I flunked the test.
What really is a bummer --- I will never feel bereft,
It will be next summer ere last summer's leaves have left.
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