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Watching, Waiting.

 Spring brought goose grass and mint to my house, set well off the
 Black swans floated in the lake past beds of cloud-white narcissus, a
haze of lilac, silver weeping willow.
Summer's continued flower fragrance, sweet as Moroccan incense,
days relaxed, even intoxicated.
Amber leaves gave way in wind, fight and fiber gone, schedules,
appointments covered in dust.
Moon in all its guises sailed by silent as a felucca.
Winter came and stayed, kept ancient secrets. Cinnabar bonfires flowered
like poppies in snow
whiter than moonlight. From under graveyard nettles and thistle, do the
dead in tombs forgive us?
Always death's sleigh bells in the distance. Small comfort, another
Tree blossoms, chalk-white as a Siberian blizzard, cover my empty house.
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Author:Praisner, Wanda
Publication:Atlanta Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Sep 22, 2012
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