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Hammock

On a bright day of early spring, frayed clouds turn into a hammock, swaying in tints of peach and marmalade. A light breeze awakens that around us, it grows very quiet, as if nature were holding its breath--- then I know it is here I can rest forever. Brian Strand, Poem 205 18 Sept 2016

Copyright © | Year Posted 2016




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Book: Shattered Sighs