A smooth river. Rich banks of sand.

A log without roots loitering far from


Tree dripping moss. Snaking branches.

A dirt road. A home at the end where I live.

Trees boasting gnarled thickness.

A deep legacy. Vines with fingers.

Leaves with eyes to the sun.

Ghosts at the gate. Leaves of autumn

lay dead.

Mists of night. Searching faces covered.

A cold closeness of ground releases day.

All things die twice.

A silver stream. Cat silent.

The paws of water stepping slow;

destined for here and there.

Foundations of bricks. The language

of once a home. Forgotten walls.

Voices of my youth. Faces with words.

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