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Robert Lindner
Thanks Lincoln:
I was a pathologist/lab director
and became a Public Health Lab director.
I was the state Lab Director for Minnesota.
As for poems, we had a couple of warm days
Which led to this one.
An Indian Summer Came To Call
When warm days come to call
Though it’s November in the midst of fall,
When leaves that paint a sky
That’s blue with colors fly,
Then sun reminds me, I
Can take a summer like walk and that all
I’ll need to wear today
Though it’s still fall is what I wore in May.
But I must remember
That it’s still November.
And, of course, December
Will come with winter and the cold will stay
Till next spring comes again.
The Indian summer days came and then
They passed by and the day
Turned cold with snow like a
November day and May
Was no longer in my memory, when
I bundled up and went
Out. I remembered the warm days I spent,
When warm days that we name
Indian summer came
Before cold would reclaim
November. Then the cold wind howled and sent
Me to a winter’s day
Which was cold, but still not as bad as a
Winter days sometimes were.
But it was still November
And there’s still December
January, February to play
Through to get to the spring.
But there were warm days for remembering
Indian Summer days
Though they were in most ways
Like spring, though the corn maze
Told us it was fall as did the painting
Of the leaves with yellow
And with red and orange, and leaves we’d go
Through, as we took the trail
The brown leaves told the tale
The “Autumn Leaves,” “Les Feuilles
Mortes” tell with summer kisses, as leaves blow
By the window in fall.
Now the cold wind has come and with it all
The leaves are down. There were
Warm days to remember
Days we spent together
When an Indian Summer came to call.
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