“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.”—Carl Sandburg

Poetry is whisper slick
inside this early evening,
these wild tongues
unraveling as careless
gestures, a sliver of sunset,
quiet golden pink.
-dce

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Sometimes there’s a poem in the breath between day and night, atop a green stem, in an open field, wild and free.

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Categories: Inspiration, Writing

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