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I let down the umbrella on the dock
Enclosing the wasps inside who’ve summered
Up in the ribs. I had to do it. Not
Only is it sunset but September
The summer is almost over and I
Must go back to New York to work to live.
I’m sorry, guys. Unsettled now they fly
Around my head, yet still stay off. We lived
Let live. They came and went while I below
Wrote and read without incident. Black wasps
Are curious, not inclined to sting though
Walking on your skin. Even now not cross
Accepting it as soon they will the cold
Back and forth they go settling in new folds.

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