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Oct 2015
Sprinting through the meadow--
Sun warmly brushing skin.
Tickled by the wild grass
As afternoon games begin:
Exploring creeks and forests
And all that lives within.
Scrapes and bruises commemorating
The quest for long lost kin.

Tiptoe through the garden;
Whisper through the tress.
In illuminated darkness,
Be hushed by rustling leaves.
Flowering rows exposed
So as to be kissed by passing bees;
Dancing down the aisles,
Damp earth cooling your bare feet

Sitting on the window sill,
Watching the passing day.
Attention turned towards the hearth
Once night takes the view away.
Surrounded by the things you know,
Comfortable in the array.
Simple now, was simple then
And simple may they stay.
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