Frames
Frames hold nature best.
A shafting of light sifts gray marsh and water--
turning past dim hills of hay
solemn in silence.
An essence of earthworms fill the air
as light seeps through a colander of clouds,
catching the ephemeral cattle in a vase of sun.
How gentle is the hand that lightly places
and is gone
as evening rings clear and cool
like the edge of a wine glass.
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