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By gillfinn - About Me - E-mail this page - Add to My Favorites - Add to Blog List - See other blogs in Poetry

Monday, February 22, 2010

The Stop Sometime, somewhere, a simple breath fell. At present, tender young blades of grass flicker in whisper wind. They guard bottoms of fence posts lining the way. Split rail fences in wicked angles, streak the drive I drive. Presently, so quiet in my head, it rests for me, lets me be. The crows... Sign in to see full entry.

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