"Closed Cottage"
Summer is gone. There's
frost in the air.
Branches of birch and maple are bare.
The ground is covered with golden leaves..
A lone crow calls and a cricket grieves.
Shutters are drawn- the camp fire is out,
Wraiths of summer whisper about.
Silent the scenes of past delight.
Turn of the season has come tonight.
White is the moon that climbs the hill.
Cottage and lake are dark and still...
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Freedoms Fight
What You Won't See in the "Main Stream" News
"It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather
an irate, tireless minority
keen to set brush fires in people's
minds."
- Samuel Adams
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