Bernadine LortisBeneath high branches of empty nests
birch limbs tremble in the cold
their blanket of golden coins purloined
as streetwalkers, rain soaked,
ill-prepared for every season
gather in clusters like molting birds
shivering in their flimsy coats
under the only lights that add color
to their darkened vacuous world
of oncoming winter and indifference.
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