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High Earth
Deep sky,
ankles seeping into grass.
Through the thicket,
light pushes through,
a thousand bracketed sky windows.
Deep earth gives way,
fades way down,
to where legs
reach up,
to a topless mind.
Treetops break the surface,
of small meadow puddles.
Out from the depth
small frogs fly upward,
singing.
No shores anywhere.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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