Bill To Tail Come Winter If I May Morning Letters My Anythings Old And New Passenger Waiting Outside Who Is He?

Waiting Outside The matters of autumn Are of little consequence To those of my persuasion Who watch for the signs And wait for the breezes That bring from the south The warm spring rains. So with a drop of this pen I will write no further For neither prose nor poetry Will quicken the pace of time Or change the course of planets Or mend the fragile soul Of the girl behind the door. Richard Vance 2/8/2003