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My friend, Brigit

In me there is a tried and true reflection of the Green the black, the forest, the damp leaves and the rain in winter. Everyday in the evening, when the dawn breaks- I walk the animal trails to see who came at night, in the dark to eat the corn, the moss, the grass. A stag and three does come every Thursday. I leave carrots, and bones, and roots, and acorns- at dusk- in the morning, forage the wild boars mother and her newborns, with large bullish horns- under the old oaks, abundant in thorn, and ash. I had a dream I sat beneath the moon-tide at noon and Brigit, my bright friend, again was near and dear- We grew up like sisters and parted as such too soon. I see her now once a week; Aye, see and hear how to Know if one's weak know and if one's strong and now how to write one's wronged wrong. Send her a message: Ev re:one needs a better, half recalled. A friend in deed, she comes to console: A shoulder to laugh on, a story already told.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

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Date: 3/2/2014 5:11:00 AM
Nicely written and plus the truth seems to be in this... Enjoyed this piece Daisy :). Verlena
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Date: 1/9/2014 4:11:00 PM
Wonderful well written write. Love the visuals. well done. best wishes. Pete.
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