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Lyn-Purcell May 2018
Mysterious wood
A large, surreal petal sleeps
near my golden pen

Open near woodlands
A beautiful, soft bird sings
under the lotus

Shining afforest
Special aged waters glide on
in spite of the calms
It's so weird going through my journals from a few years ago.
These haikus were scratched out
Theodore Bird Feb 2015
Bare feet torn on muddy grass.
Blink slowly,
     feel the wind between your fingers.
Tilt your head,
     offer your throat to the sun.
Laugh,
     make music with the birds.
Run as fast as you can,
     stop to sing with the crickets.
Wander slowly, close your eyes,
     feel the sun play symphonies on your arms,
skin speckled with the light of every star.

— The End —