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Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Late summer's stroll

There’s a sidewalk here,
the city has poured,
cemented with smooth
and perfect squares.
It leads to all
the usual places,
only altering when
at last it crumbles.

There's also the rough-
cut route I’ll walk,
taking Aeolus
by his shaky hand
to stroll where moths mingle,
dandelions dance, and
destinations giggle
tickled by our setting suns.


This is my contribution to the dialog my dear friend human being is having on her blog Thus Spake the Crow.
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