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Libbie
- Sep 7, 2020
- 1 min read

While We Were Still

While we were still

the yellow haze lifted;

the mountains rose

and came to stand

close as if to watch us.

On the path I walk

every day,

the ferns have grown

to six feet high

and blackbirds chide me

from a thicket.

The daisies have overcome

the trail Man made

with his foot, his weight,

his presence.

Libbie Grant, 18 June 2020

Poems

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