You would think they would fix the formatting for poetry so that it could be moved away from the left margin…no.  Concept foreign…..

Enjoy!

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Windfall….

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I wanted something of morning

To hold in my hand

And there were small plums,

Underfoot, all over the yard

.

Filled with morning’s warmth

The promise of sweetness

More than sweetness itself,

A kiss, rather than the feast

it could be to lie

in the  bread-warm arms

Of a lover

.

While morning steals away

To its autumnal distance,– that freize

Of centurion trees, the glowing hands

of  wide spinning leaves

and then honeyed light

over the head of a girl

in a red sweater

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More plums, please. I shake the tree

for the fruit I am eager to eat,

the celluloid ribbon of old fears

falls away–

.

I had been trying to cut out

The sadness there, edit

The film that too starkly

shows forth a life

When flavor burst in my mouth

And the o of delight

That lives at the back of my throat

Pierced the air.

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