Daybreak on Circus Street

I have a premonition of retrospect – the way I’ll look back on these mornings, shattered and chattering, salt crusting on skin as we share in our strange communion.

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Night Swimming

That darkest hour before the dawn, when myriad shades of blue give way to uniform black velvet, adorned with Orion’s own studded belt.

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It is World Poetry Day. A day that I, a less prolific poet than I wish to be, hold dear in my heart. By some twist of scheduling, it is also the International Day of Forests. A day to recall the woodlands of childhoods well spent, the mystique of ecosystems.

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