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By scqueen Date: 2005 May 04 Comment on this Work [[2005.05.04.15.26.14608]] |
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At first wake, Tulle fog swirls Off the lake Like steaming coffee Under my nose. Bass flop, Loons glide, And a pair of crows Haggle over yesterday's pistachios. The fire pit Still smolders, As does your hand, Resting on my hip. The day has no agenda But that of Simply Breathing. |