Ceremonies
In
just-spring
this year,
the world was not
mud-luscious nor
puddle-wonderful,
but dry,
the stark trees
bare and clacking in the wind
above the brown lawns
and fissured earth,
the land trod
by old men in cracked leather boots,
coughing hoarse whispers under leaden skies,
Copyright © Len Solo | Year Posted 2005
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