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Balding crowns on white oaks bend With hues of copper, autumn red Cascading tears of summer’s end Around the head of winding trail Swiveled sights, to west I think To higher road, the longer route Of upward path and downward leaf And acorn kicked by toe of boot Off quarry’s precipice I stared And stalked my way down switchback’s sway A clearing under open sky Suspended time in humid air Dreary miles above the trees Snatched up my thoughts from where I kneeled A marble laid by thorough hand Miasma swirls in charcoal field Though it behooves me to confide In scenes of dreamscapes carved in wood The pendulum of modern life Beckons me onward as it should
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC
Ye Olde Golden Hours
Balding crowns on white oaks bend With hues of copper, autumn red Cascading tears of summer’s end Around the head of winding trail Swiveled sights, to west I think To higher road, the longer route Of upward path and downward leaf And acorn kicked by toe of boot Off quarry’s precipice I stared And stalked my way down switchback’s sway A clearing under open sky Suspended time in humid air Dreary miles above the trees Snatched up my thoughts from where I kneeled A marble laid by thorough hand Miasma swirls in charcoal field Though it behooves me to confide In scenes of dreamscapes carved in wood The pendulum of modern life Beckons me onward as it should
miles-cottingham
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC
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