“It’s December in Florida, and there are still a few leaves clinging on the branches for dear summer.”
“Someone's got to do these things,' he said sullenly. 'Or else fate would not ever get nose-thumbed and mankind would still be clinging to the top branches of a tree.”
“The few trees still upright were stripped of their branches, lonely flagpoles without a nation to claim them.”
“December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory...”
“It was only leaves and branches.”
“To live within limits. To want one thing. Or a few things very much and love them dearly. Cling to them, survey them from every angle. Become one with them - that is what makes the poet, the artist, the human being.”