Saturday, June 13, 2009

A Poem - Untitled

Summer birds have left the land, whispered south
by the urgent hands of a timeless clock.
The grass shrinks into sleep. Sticks clack to strike
the key for wind song. Winter storm has halved
the light of day. The land is dressed in white.
Red barns dwarf the boy exiled to the fields.
His footprints slur the snow to the farthest
treeless slope to look upon the buried
town below, while at his back his dog
becomes a dolphin in the snow.

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