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Mar 2014
out behind the town
there's a field between
the trees, growing dead
grass and at 7:03 just
before sunset, it bleached
itself in white then faded
to a soft cornsilk, and the
gnats weren't gnats anymore,
but specks of gold casting
threads of shadows in the
light fuzz and while no
one saw, I sparkled.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
brooke
Written by
brooke
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