<grass' "who's coming?"> 2002-11-25.12:50 a.m. Who's Coming? G�nter Grass November blackness againt bright tints effete: as models the last sunflowers blackly sit. Beside them the residual rosehips fade. Bare at the tops, trees, cowlless, drip and shed what's left, in groups or single, even the nut tree bare. A lonely gun that's licensed rehearses from afar. Fog blots and blurs the ugly little doubt. I wish I knew a gag, too, for the advent shout. Who's coming, is here, and multiplied? As usual the radio forecasts a mere hurricane that usually on the way loses its force and stride. The water tap's been lagged against sudden frost again, the parcels are tied up, ready for mailing; and imminent Christmas threatens our Novemberland. back /& forth /& frosting names are often sad