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CvK |
Cabbage
White |
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The passing, the
passing leaves,
trees and the insect in my
garden, the passing. Call me back to
your garden where we once sat
in the short breath of
summer. Call me back! There shifts in
unplanned pattern white wings in
curl of breeze bouncing off the
weeds, now blooms and the
garden wall is vine-heavy as
the shaggy days of heat sweep with
the tilt its narrow
zone from here. There she goes,
one white petal maze of nerves and
fears and we might
flutter as she given the sun and
only one short clipped day of
nesting. |