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Pale Red Sun

The pale red sun rises on the eastern horizon casting light upon a low crescent moon and morning star. A Whip-Poor-Will with a sore throat sings his love song to his mate or maybe to the master artist who paints the constantly changing canopy. The once smokey gray horizonal clouds have turned a shade of cerise. So much sound reverberates this still morning. The roosters echo in the hollow, doves coo upon the hill, mockingbirds sing their varied tunes back and forth through the oaks while all the neighboring folk lie in bed.
indigo buntings in flight... share piece of bread
Blessings sometimes come in strange places. The Indigo Buntings are a rare sight their beauty shone forth in which there came delight. Thank you Lord for this beautiful sight. Finis'

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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Date: 5/2/2014 10:24:00 AM
Brought pleasure to my soul to read. That's the mark of a true artist.. Bravo..
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Date: 4/27/2014 8:58:00 AM
Beautiful piece of prose, Sara. Each line, each word, each syllable rolling effortlessly through the mind as you build layer upon layer of your vision. By the time we reach the end, you have crafted a complex, beautiful world for us to behold. A beautiful painting-in-words. Peace...BH
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Date: 4/27/2014 8:41:00 AM
Thnks for calling attention to my brain lapse, Sara. Joyce
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Date: 4/27/2014 8:13:00 AM
felt like I was standing on your porch with you seeing and hearing all this, my friend
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Date: 4/27/2014 5:52:00 AM
Sara, I just love this poem...I could just imagine in my minds eye all the little birds singing all at one time with the sunrise coming up in the eastern sky, while we are all asleep in our beds...Thank you, for your art work of poetry and sharing it with us...Your friend, Cinda
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Date: 4/26/2014 9:55:00 AM
gosh, you could paint a picture for this one with haiku, tanka, even kyrielle. A lot of beauty happening for you to go wild with this. Prose is a great way to show it to, sara. So descriptive.
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