Thursday, May 31, 2012


Lone trees, lone fence . . .


Two lone trees,
straggly sentinels
to guard a whole ocean, a world of wet life and dreams.
One lone fence,
one scrappy wave of a fence,
slats barely standing in shifting sand, weathered by salt, gale, and sifting breezes–
your purpose seems a bit spurious,
so perhaps you stand just for me.

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