QED

poesy

circadian rhythm

Diminutive toads
scatter along the pebbled river bank
blanketed by an overabundance of algae
while I tread the verdant plank.
I heard from the locals that this area
use to be a dumping ground of some sort
and nearby,
skeletons of old Studebakers litter the bog.
I entered at another point where the cat tails pummeled
the wind and whatever poor creatures were to fly by.
Here I thought about my own sanctuary which
resembled the dream
and I reminded myself to take a moment
to divert all the attractions of the world
and disperse them as seedlings into the blue sky.

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