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About This Poem
REKINDLED
Driftwood
you’d collected
with such intent
crackles and snaps by toes
that spread in the summer sand
like branches.
Smoke lifts
to the flushed moon
as fire chars
what was once neglected.
Now, rekindled embers glow
beside me.
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By Cyndi MacMillan, Oct 27,2012
For Nette Onclaud’s Views from a Vignette Contest
*I have counted fire as two syllables.
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