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Wednesday, September 09, 2015

Salute Their Colors








September summer
Beats down on the thirsty earth
With soft, moist small fists.







 








Illuminated,
Leaves glow in a thousand greens;
Here and there,  some browns.





 





 





Children shout next door?
No, it is the rooster crowing.
School will have to wait.

















A lone bale of hay
Sits in the old barn window
Waiting for a cow.














Shadows on the road
Provide small islands of cool
In the turgid sea.













Perched in a straight line
Flower pots on the driveway
Salute their colors.








 







On the journey back
A soft breeze blows on my face;
Tree limbs bow gently.






 





Parched blank wooden frame
Gives more questions than answers
And stares emptily.










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