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down by another riverside

September 9, 2011

a blade of grass quivers.


little flowers echo, yellow and white,

against a screen of greens and browns and birdcalls,

soft tones smearing from dark olive to fair tan;

a thistle leaps into purpleness


becalmed in a moment,

tiny ripples, a gossamer breeze.


the path lush,

the current slow,

the daunting complexity

of all living things

that speaks so quietly

to coax the simplicity

out of one’s soul

as one realises again how small one’s life is

in the face of the journey of the ant

climbing the blade of grass

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