ant5

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the laurels

together made

a mound of grass

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here come

the diminutive

shadows of June

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three sparrows

poke at a barking

crow

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we take our

separate ways

to the chickens

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poppies

yellow when

they first arrive

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last day of May

too many things

expire

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after the rain

we sweat

indoors

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the spirits sound

like they’re

on strike

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hens and cats

their separate paths

through the grass

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new slender

fronds droop

from the conifer

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