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Fledglings, Now long From the nest, Alight with grace for A brief repast, And well-earned rest; Then secret away Before December's threats. Fleecy sheep From the promise Of Spring, Are fatted and shorn And  blithely waiting, Will feed on corn And winter grain In straw-warm barns. So you, with Youth's eyes Intent with queries, Focus on The coming seasons; When the nest's No longer home, When the wool Has yet to grow, And the barn Has lost its glow, And cannot Keep you Warm. Meet opportunity. It's a subtle wink, And briefer than You'd like to think. Look to your stars; Leave earthly woes Behind.
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Seasons
Fledglings, Now long From the nest, Alight with grace for A brief repast, And well-earned rest; Then secret away Before December's threats. Fleecy sheep From the promise Of Spring, Are fatted and shorn And  blithely waiting, Will feed on corn And winter grain In straw-warm barns. So you, with Youth's eyes Intent with queries, Focus on The coming seasons; When the nest's No longer home, When the wool Has yet to grow, And the barn Has lost its glow, And cannot Keep you Warm. Meet opportunity. It's a subtle wink, And briefer than You'd like to think. Look to your stars; Leave earthly woes Behind.
francie-lynch
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Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
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