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Four Lines

what is the color of the haze
where horizon ceases to be
an edge, waves permeating sky
until neither is the other

365

Four Lines

when my bawdy poet recites
I meet his silliness with groans
comment with a prolonged moan
to disguise my delight

365

Four Lines

I live in a triangle made
by the merging of two rivers
each day I watch to think wider
thoughts while the water sweeps away

365

Four Lines

blizzard sun blizzard sun hail rains
on the green grass but spring has sprung
lawn mowers and dandelions among
our snowman’s remains

365

Dawn Chorus

when I wake to see the sunrise
I hear birds sing their dawn chorus

still clinging to old tradition
house finches sparrows and robins
together make the morning din… 54 more words

365

Four Lines

back from pestilence and famine
two scourges then drought I began
to doubt I’d have you back again
my bawdy poet

365

Four Lines

if birds didn’t sing would light dim
morning never begin or day
cease to exist fading away
dawn become just notes on the wind

365