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Not a poem
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Not political, just a grandmother sad at the way things are.
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Mottled beams of sunlight
Filter down through dense canopies,
To feed the whispering, wooded forest.
Stirred breezes and shadows move like liquid
..
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Tall ears semaphore,
Warning mates off to shelter,
Strong feet bound once more...
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Little ones scurry,
Tails raised in exclamation!
Swift paws a-flurry...
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Not really a poem.
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I do not feel that Nature judges.
Rather, it is forgiving,
Accepting of differences.
Through eons of aeons,
As water returns to its source,
So d..
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So, tell me again why you can’t,
And I will tell you why you can,
It’s in you.
In you are genes as old as the earth,
If you stop to,
..
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Peer into green seas,
Of trembling leaves on tall trees,
See the ease of wings.
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Strength is what is born,
When struggles impose themselves,
And you choose to live.
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