ant5

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pulling weeds

start with

yourself

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while you’re quiet

you wipe away

the salt

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the hen who

stands on my foot

won’t get off

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our fifteen minutes

your lips softer

each time

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black mirror

your furtive fingerprints

in the light

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tips of

the ivy leaves

glint with droplets

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longer days

the cats redraw

their districts

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wet crescent moon

visible through

flowering trees

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spring grasses

wreck your

shoes with dew

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