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Thursday, April 24, 2014

Unwatched or Cared For


 



 Sparse forsythia
Waving yellow in the wind,
Reflects the sunshine.

 



 Flash through a mirror;
I turn to see a runner
Jogging in the street.




Peeking through dead leaves
A green renewal of life.
(Some might call them weeds).




Unwatched or cared for
Delicate blue flowers spring
Through the winter's leaves.





Lying in the woods
A shiny pile of garbage.
Who could have done that?




Shadows in the road
Weave gently in the soft breeze;
Above, tall trees hum.






Stump congregation
Survived another winter--
Older and leaner.





The road is empty
Just as it was in deep snow.
Eh bien, plus ça change.




















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