ant5

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3am

when vines

grow

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a tear where

your life is folded

like paper

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the waxing moon

gives the clouds

a silver edge

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August rain

a whirlwind

of flies on the porch

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a quirky

August rain

brings a new scent

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thunderheads

I pick blackberries

with a metal bowl

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smoky dusk

every corner

its own spider

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in your

laundry basket

blue centaur

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