Cold cloudy damp day
Spring is late
She’s unpredictable anyway
Have to wait
Till she is ready to say
I’m here.
Naked branches tangle
and twist
Spider web angles
Moisture, mist.
Dew drops dangle
Yet next steps are clear.
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My inner poet begs to be set free. Some of these musings are old, some are new; some observed, others lived. Enjoy.
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