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The Garden © 

I wander my garden 
the morning sun barely peeking 
above the distant hills 

dew drops wet my toes 
and the damp earth seeps between them 
cool and wet 

my flowers nod their heads to me 
as if to say ‘good morning’ 
their colors soft and muted without 
the rays of the sun to spike their flagrant color
the over-achieving bee dips into the golden nectar
 
a bird trills a celebration to the new day 

Trisha Sugarek
Moths and Machettes

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