Saturday, March 12, 2011

Another Canvas / new poems 2011

Ask The Dust

After the rain, the mud,
came the sun-baked dust
along an avenue of trees,
whispering what it was,
before I could ask
if this was, at long last,
summer beneath my feet,
hovering above my head,
laid out like a landscape
by a Plein-Air painter.

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