My history is long in telling,
Though my origins are unknown.
I watch the tender earth most carefully,
Clothed in discards long disowned.
I guard against the raucous poachers,
Praying for a gust of wind that will animate my lifeless form.
The autumn winds will signal the completion of my job.
Maybe if I had a brain I'd choose to move south for the winter.
thank you so much for always uploading
I was wondering if you could possibly re-upload these particular work? It seems like all the current links for it have either expired or aren't working anymore.