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Apr 2013
The sun came in hot, peering through the shades, breaking the lazy day into sweaty parades of feet heading for the creek, where the creatures live in murk, and the plants reach up, and hurt, the fragile fears of kids, scrambling in a fit, from the monster down below, skittish, and all alone.

The watering hole.
Michael W Noland
Written by
Michael W Noland  Seattle
(Seattle)   
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