Walk the rails under a high blue sky. Find the sag in the leaning fence, and step--carefully--over rusted wire. Follow a peninsula of blond grasses through a lake of loam, and come, at last, to the timber's edge where gray branches trace the sky and rose hips curl near purple canes.
Monday, May 30, 2011
City Night
The stars still burn fire through rusty velvet skies, and the wind sighs ahhh . . . a breath--a great wave over us, so tiny and beloved.
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