This Incomprehensible Ennui
E
Emmanuel George Cefai
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This incomprehensible ennui
This heat – this summer
This thought that comes robber-like
Whose genealogy I do not know
Nor care to.
The wind winds slowly round the pine
In fretful gusts
All playful half-discernible
Without a noise
And secretly tiptoeing.
The bat saw me and gave its eerie cry
That rent the heavens piteously
And then
And then
It went back to the eaves to hang itself.
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