ant5

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last of the sun

illuminates

the dead vine leaves

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the cat brings

me a drop of

water from her chin

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moon

all the people

who’ve looked at it

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after the game

sweet cool

air

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circling the calls of

the ring necked dove

a hawk

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a narrow field

where the words

aren’t blurred

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shadows of

the tall grass in

the deep hole

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the chickens

wait for you

at the spigot

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