Tuesday, July 12, 2011


And thinking of you I realize
often leaves fall up
to trees back & forth paddling
     and fall is backward over mirrored pond
grieving by empty grave
     for my summer nearly
gone and gone are honey bee reflections
     fat and tormenting children,
when I was young they were
everywhere in pink grass
and now like ghosts
     so nearly gone, and
now like us, our flowers
     so nearly gone twisted
round and round and round
so nearly gone

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