The storm has passed, and
now, above quiet, damp streets,
trees dance, intact limbs waving,
as the air animates them--
a fresh, rising wind, strong
but kind, a messenger from
somewhere else, speaking
through branches and leaves
like breath through a reed.
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It's haiku time again in creative writing class
Coffee is bitter fuel that brings a sweetness, lifting my spirits. Empty hanging file folders, holding only the hope of less clut...
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How many lenses have we passed through, how many times have we bent in darkness, felt gravity's capricious hand alter our cour...
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Serial monogamy sounds like a crime. A felony, at least. Big shout out to all you lurkers.
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