Her Sweat
The morning is so bright,
the kitty cat sits again
before the tv set,
through the window I see
the garden is blooming,
purple-violet and scented honey cream.
Fortuitously, there’s no bee
to harass the garden, only the eager
orb is here
to sip the lady’s sweat,
her sweat run down the earth, whence
the morning is risen, so bright.
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