Best Rigmarole Poems

scrutable squirrel
stocks up the winter larder...
another nut case

 © Harry J Horsman 2022...

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I stand barefoot on the cold moss,
the forest breathing around me,
each leaf a whisper,
each tree a silent witness to my thoughts.
The earth beneath me is alive,
its pulse steady, unhurried,
a rhythm so pure it fills the spaces
the city forgot to take care of.

But then, a hum...

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