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A sharpened sickle of moon
slices through the black.
My breath steams out and
is blown back out of sight.

A dog barks in the distance,
My dog answers, pulls at
his leash, ready to be home.

We walk in the sharp darkness
following the moon—
Venus and Jupiter steady points
of light above the black hill.

I smell wood-smoke
and wet gutter.
The sidewalk cracks wait
till the last moment to reveal

the huge trees’
roots diving for cover heave
the pavement up.

I don’t fall, though all
the leaves have.

Tomfoolery33 9 July 13
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The dogs' bellow to say hell to their fellows, The trees seemingly reclaiming their invaded space. Good rune

azzow2 Level 9 July 16, 2018




You paint a pretty good picture sir.

Lincoln55 Level 8 July 13, 2018

Thank you.