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Poetry

(rd king dot net)
poetry and digital art

American Summer

Poems written while traveling.

Kaibab 


When the meadow opened
the meadow was liege.  Trees

wandered down the hillsides
in great mass and density,

sending their children before them;
the firs so straight and narrow,

the spruce were blue, and
the aspens lighter, softening

the conifers' reach—their
saplings, in abundant cheerfulness,
      like tiny dancers.




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