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Sunday, September 22, 2013

While Dancing With Boughs



Beginning of Fall;
First official Autumn day;
Much like yesterday.





The little bird house
Receives a new visitor,
Checking out the scene.



Wind blows over road
Shaking all the milk weed plants
While dancing with boughs.



Small dandelion
Stands high in the empty field;
Last of the season.



Grandma on Sunday
Savoring the chattering
On this sunny road.




Crashing through the trees,
Sun's rays throw a patch of light
On the forest floor.



In a single day
All the buds on this spare stalk
Have burst into bloom.



No good place for snakes--
Fast cars don't even see them
As they run them down.



Walker, jogger, me:
Three souls on this empty road,
Each in our own space.






 

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