Sunday, April 4, 2010


that grass was so green
or at least as green as
two springs piled high.

that tree had serious lines -
it stood tall enough -
it bent low enough to be
close to royalty.

i stood on that grass
and i touched that tree,
close to where a squirrel

those white noise flies flew
that old man, the one with the buzz cut,
he talked about his dog and his long life
fighting the river
the wind blew the fresh magnolias to the

sometimes life is quiet.

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