Parading

The moon passes her twentieth night.

of tiny thoughts. —Mary Ruefle
Month after month, she dies so young.
Month after month, she dies so young.
What are the trout thinking?
What are the trout thinking?
At dawn on the thirteenth
At dawn on the thirteenth
I am lost in the great expanse
I am lost in the great expanse
of tiny thoughts. —Mary Ruefle
of tiny thoughts.
—Mary Ruefle

atoms

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