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August arrives in a foul mood, tempestuoustornado of dead winds dusting over dried creekswaiting for rain. Any memory of spring,gum boots sucking into..
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A rueful crow circling overheadthis morning, dips a wingto the mourning congregation. So manyashen faces, veiled from the sun,shuffling in, in contrad..
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A boy in rubber bootssinking quickinto the mire of an April mudhole, mother’s warningto steer clearfrom temptation falling ..
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When I wade out and into the greenwash of antiquity’s womba little too far perhapsfrom the comfortable reachof beach, I sense hergrowing apprehe..
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A light rain washesmemories from the cracked steps,a ghost departing.Her lilac blossomswarbling in the wind a lastgood riddance take mefrom my kitchen..
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That May Medb swept through the Woodlands.A ginger vixen murmuringto lads to stir from their childish pursuitsto manlier games … Word-playa sud..
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asked to write something authentically Canadian
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In the high-heat of midday sunthe ghostly fulcrum, gnarledand knotted, leaves littleto the imagination:the precarious pendulum of lifebeing balanced, ..
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sitting on the dock of the bay, yet again
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"reflecting on Sandburg"
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