Thursday, September 12, 2013

A lovely poem from Tatjana Debeljački, Užice, Serbia (also in the latest bear creek haiku, #114)

and, from the versifying skunk cabbage of Empire, Colorado,          p l wick - -

early morning frost
burrowed down into a pail of feed
three meadow mice

                            Sometimes, when I whistle
                            and Bud-dog
                            does not amble in,
                            I'll find him
                            out behind the shed
                            in fender-deep weeds--
                            beside the rusted pickup.
                            Helping him up
                            onto the opened tailgate,
                            we sit in silence
                            letting summer's breezes
                            ruffle our hair.

                            old friends
                            up on blocks

see you in a moment 

ayaz daryl nielsen                       

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