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Silver shadows, moving in piney woods golden leaves, on stick thin branches Touching, grating, letting their presence known On the ground, seemingly dead things move In the breeze, bronze shapes flutter and lift Then rest, to wait for winter’s chill, and springtime rains To nourish, the great roots of nearby trees, dormant yet alive Golden leaves set the stage, for sunlit growth and warmer days To come, when life will sprout and grow once again In due time these too will bronze, die and fall To sustain the forest crust and renew thick wood Nature’s promise held in silver shadows, moving in piney woods

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018

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Date: 7/21/2018 5:29:00 PM
"...i am....therefore i think.... i am i...think..." (descartes), we are our own devil; but, for some descartes reads as in-no-sense.
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Robert Bellam
Date: 7/23/2018 11:01:00 AM
Thank you, I've only recently discovered poetry. I'm working on a Haiku, but was told a different vowel sequence so it's back to the drawing board. As a thinking man, words have power that soothe, create images and uplift the Soul.
Date: 7/21/2018 5:00:00 PM
i'm...looking at!
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