Friday, June 29, 2012


Bits of tree cotton drift
Lightly as jellyfish
In the dry mountain air,

White parachutes without
Warriors, snow without cold,
Angels outside of faith.

Chickadees, nuthatches
Siskins, robins, and crows
Overlay choruses

On those of the insects,
Of cotton-carrying
Breezes, of porcelain chimes

Hanging in the high sun
Over the creek and lake,
And there's nothing to say.

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