Sep 3
A canopy of green
beginning
to turn pink
as twigs and dry leaves
crunch
below my feet
a gray stone bench
dead
ahead
where I will sit
and silence
the senses
beginning
to turn pink
as twigs and dry leaves
crunch
below my feet
a gray stone bench
dead
ahead
where I will sit
and silence
the senses
Written by
Whit Howland
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