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Seranaea Jones Dec 2020

weeks after he ascended
from his fallen carcass—

troops vacated what once
was good ground,

rains washed in mud
to refill the holes,

the scent of honeysuckle
once again became

birds of prey returned
to their perches-

watching as

squirrels and rabbits
went about
their collections,

and the veil of silent
winds once again

after decades passed
through the footfalls
of morning strolls
between healing
vegetation and

a park had completed
formation about the
flanks of his bones ...

s jones


— The End —