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The life of the dew

In the morning

On the flowers, beautiful it looks

To the human eye

To condense and collect

To drop as a dewdrop

To holdback, it knows not

On this earth, it lets go

In the morning hours upon the grass

As there is sunlight up the sky

Beautiful, the life of a dewdrop
  Jul 2020 D Allaire
Ann Pedone
I love blueberries.  I love the groves
of almond trees
you see as you drive up to
Sacramento.
I love anchovies and
raw broccoli.
I love Spanish wine and the feel of
your tongue when I am
down between your legs.
I love Jacques Brel, and the piles of peaches
that appear in stores late
in the spring.  I love gin and tonic, Alexander
Calder’s
mobiles, and the
early novels of
Philip Roth. I love laying in
bed with you
looking at
pictures of
Greece.
I love smoked salmon,
especially on a bagel toasted
with a little bit of butter.
I love lemon drops,
Frank Sinatra, and e.e.
cummings.
I love the smell of
eucalyptus trees and those
long,
flat
strips of
bark
that
peel
off
their
trunks
like
paper.
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