April 10, 2015 · 9:27 pm
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Four Ten

  

     

Slow melting snow

Exposes piles of month old

Deer shit

Dead mice and dead brown oats

Cast offs 

Of winter’s careless wake

Exposed to the sun

That sits higher in the sky

Plans revealed

Like lines on your hands

Fortunes and fates

Gods and flaws.

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Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing

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