Crisp the morning air with sweet undefined odors blending

 One sun of a thousand stars taking time to encompass me

Moist branches hands unclenched

A spider web against the sky

 

Songbirds… masters of the sky

 Sigh as they pass overhead

Dropping small bits of sound

From mouths unfed

 

One last snow pile in the woods

Hiding from the rays of light

Melting into the past

Holding on to shadows

His last friends

 

Ungathered the browned leaves

Follow the school bus down the old road

Having lost their luster they are no longer adorned

Left to the sides of the street

The vagabonds of spring

 

The brook is crooked and babbles a calming song

As the breeze raises tiny waves where it pools

And the brown water licks the stones so gently

They smack their lips

 

Trees of pine shaking their needles

A green dress that the wind keeps lifting

Reveals the dark skin of bark

Scarred by moss

Roots like knees bent exposed in the soil

Drinking always drinking

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