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Saturday, July 13, 2013 poem


The sun defines the beacon of the seasons 
Southern breezes whistle dreams into one's path 
Notions once past return with strength and promise 
Summer whispers the ripening of future 

Cool grass beneath calloused soles speaks to spirit 
Spirit responds by soaking earth with her tears 
Those gone before seem nearer 
Days presented on extended fingers 

Mama wake me from sleep unslumbered 
Lest I linger in intoxicated bliss 
The fruits of a trifling journey 
Laid bare upon the robin's chest

Dreams once dreamt return vivid 
A spark reignited from a cold ember 
Hope emerging through the silent creeping 
The sweet, lingering scent of honeysuckle on the vine 

                                                       ~ R.L. Morgan

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