FALLING
the sound of the screen door
the smell of crushed sage leaves
the taste of quince in a mask
A dream, its not done with us
I see flashes of light in corners
there in darkness without a moon
there chickens hide from hawks
there is a stone in my rubber boots
A dream, its not done with us
I wish on marigolds scaring bugs
the fleeting tail of a mouse
the sliver of summer sunset
the acorns ground to flour
A dream of fall
A prayer to fly
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