day 84
pale moon in day’s sky
today’s strawberries were sweet
bright child of the world
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day 82
Cold is indifferent
to your regard. In summer,
the heat says, “Feel me!”
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day 80
what I saw streaming
in the light between branches:
was it pollen, then?
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day 78
dead, she lifts her head,
tail wagging, gives the new air
a tentative sniff
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day 77
when I thought myself
the night’s lone inhabitant
the nightjar called me
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