Pumpkins, nursed all summer long--frozen on the doorstep, by an arctic blast, and now nothing more than a pile of smushed fruits.
Decorations outside, whipped in the wind, arisen after weeks of still skies, and torn asunder, flown across the yard.
And all right before Hallowe'en itself. Alas.
Yet, we persevere, and certainly, whatever the weather, we will do so again next year.
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