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tips of the stones

stay above

the lapping water

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moving quickly

through the trees

cloud shadow

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across the lake

fir trees

in cloud shadow

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late morning

half moon

on its way down

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the cat

won’t budge from

the grain shed

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late summer rain

leaves a patina

of mildew

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we walk past

the knife in

the bannister

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in the honey

a few strands

of straw

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bursting up through

the circling hawks

swifts

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