Saturday, March 06, 2010



I've lived a life of simple excitements.
Walked streets where a low branch
struck me in the hair. No obstruction,
a beckoning.

Have heard drops, looking up.
Icicles, for the life of them, struggling
to be what they are, in the sun

Leaves and water droplets. Hopping
birds, grey as mud. In a perfect world
this hunter after waiting forever lowers
a rifle.

And a deer, fawn beside, munches
chlorophyll. There I am, using past tense
in the first sentence. Knowing it

c. Ciprianowords, Inc. 2010

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