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Whit Howland
Poems
Jul 2021
Tire Swing
As if rubbed with
charcoal
tire black rope white
and slung over a branch
ashen pale
against the gray trunk
a summer
my summer
your summer
colored
in gothic tones
much like a rubbing
from a gravestone
in an old church
cemetery
whit howland © 2021
A word painting.
#blackmountainpoet
Written by
Whit Howland
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