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Helen Losse's Writings

Poem
Oct.28.2009
Cracked Lenses
The rain had quenched the roaring campfire, destroying all hopes of roasting marshmallows. But the sounds that would follow were simply October.  Storm clouds arrived.  Then the wind blew. Rain fell in horizontal sheets.  Hail came last, destroying the objects grouped by the door:   Bruising carved pumpkins, un-potting the yellow chrysanthemums, scattering...