dark purple, deep emerald
one flock of geese moves by.
a daffodil, immersed in sunlight,
grows defiantly on a war-torn plain;
i watch you, sighing gently,
in a puddle of midwinter sun.

the streets are paved with bottleglass.
they crunch underfoot and burst emphatically.
one million yous, all sighing, smiling,
glancing at the unmoving sun,
in a kind of momentary peril.




bronnie

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