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Sunday, January 25, 2015

(Not to be Repaid)



Water in the glass
Shakes on the kitchen table
As I am writing.





 



Noiseless clod of snow
Falling swiftly to the ground
Followed by others.










Shadow on the tree
Last for only a second
Then cloud swallows it.












Scattered through the snow
Thin branches are silhouettes
Of a Spring to be.
   









Lines along the snow
Borrowed from adjacent fence;
(Not to be repaid).









Many woodpeckers
Have feasted on this old stump.
Now, it's mainly holes.




 



Lying off the road
Small Siberian tundra
(Visiting Woodstock?)


 
  



The road is empty;
All I have for company
Is my monkey mind.






















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