Orange is the Colour of Word
Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration. - Carl Sandburg
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Monarch butterflies descend on the field
like summer tourists
Their wings overwhelm the rustle
of an un-tilled crop as the rain begins.
In the field at dusk, a plough rusts -
a red-winged blackbird
perched on its handle, lost in song.
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