It was fall now.
Or at least fall lean against the
Impulsive with flecks of yellow and red,
managing trees and plucking flowers at a gradual pace.
and the breeze consciously present but remained mostly in the background.
The thin air of past season
Grabbed time and kept it still.
Afternoon, the sun was damp foot prints on warm sand and at night
The harvest moon … Peaking out behind a wall of purple or blue or black.
There was a brief wait for time.
A wait for thin air, warm foot prints, and bright color to desiccate with casual advance.
—Cam Ie


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This blog is about writing (poetry in particular) and random thoughts in a nutshell

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