Creaking green fingers
almost reach past the call
of crow
as wood voices loudly
interrupts the shush
of breeze
a butterfly's wings
decorate a pause
between thoughts
element of air
is my friend here
sun
half sunk
adds a shimmer
to a yellow building
opposite the sleeping cat
I anticipate sunset
within an hour
or so
am ready
for the fall
of sound
denseness of echo
that follows twilight
the fringe of nature
comforts me
as memories
circulate
some forms of sadness
are to be carried until death
I am learning to accept that
perhaps not yet in italics
nevertheless
an unavoidable collision
with grief
is a wise teacher
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