
Morningbird
raindance reels
light stepping rhythm
landing’s challenge between
adornment
from death
emergent life.
Beauty.
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Inside stand
stand in wood
if might may wield
they could they would
why not we should
transform
a tree
neat pile
of wood.
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Just past
Cove and 697
you took your exit
still half-sleeping.
I guess your journey
called for only
half a mattress.
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Yellow blooms
emergent darkness
rain hollows
ravaged soil
taxis idle
mapping alter courses
enter here
can still outrun
save my 561.
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Camera sways
weighty neck
worldview
thru filtered lens
slip between
looking under
veil camouflage
dirt flat silence
rising.
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What will we do
When the old barn falls?
How will we remember
How it sheltered us all?
What sound will we hear
When the walls lay down?
What will we do
When the old barn’s gone?
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Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.