Friday, March 11, 2011

spring in the clay pan

on the threshold of new beginnings,
you will get your feet wet
and the cuffs of your jeans dirty.
In the morning, it will snow a flurry fury
and catch in your ears
with the song
about how the world is so ugly.
Governed by tedium, and late nights
when
all of a sudden
a deer runs swift, passing you, from one side of forest to the other.

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