Out on the back forty where clouds hug the ground
The zephyrs stir wet leaves from evening's rain
Nature wraps her sentiments inside a restless sound
In this geographical corner of my quixotic-go-round
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The sunset dabbles in dusk-drops as I walk along the highway
I hold a rose in my teeth as I shadow dance with the moon,
Greeting the images from the zephyrs' sway,
While sipping life's secrets from an acorn-shaped spoon
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Winter peeks from around the bend; only a coat's distance away
Though falling leaves tickle my skin, I await the man of snow
The clouds seem tangled at times, but I uncurl them day by day
For the edges of the clouds are just long trips into which I go
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When dusk drains the sun of its honey-spun face
And I find myself knitting in Braille
Zephyrs will whisper near by, though I've left this place
To become one of the clouds hugging the ground…
September 24, 2014
Thank you Pupwee for sharing the lovely word, Zephyr!!