Thursday, June 16, 2011


"Roses in the Morning", oil, by Roxanne Steed
Birds at the feeder,
flowers falling over each other,
the fullness of the sky above.
He sits like a silent stone,
staying just where he's supposed to be,
where the always sensible universe
wants him to be. He belongs
to an association of privileged people,
of which all of us are members.

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