Half a month until
National (Global) Poetry Writing Month.
Nature waits for spring:
a hungry owl
perched on a blunt limb
head down
for mouse
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I am waiting for you. Where do you wait? In Florida with retirees? South along the Gulf of Mexico? All the way home to sunny Mexico? Is anyo...
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restless edgy achy from the wait time to unfurl sprout feel the sun shine
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