May 16, 2025
More in no vim nor vigor Hallowed
like thin roots twisting in dirt
below the wide cradle of leaves
the threads of my thoughts
weave along a looming sky
gray clouds grow from the scattered seeds
of a plump pumpkin dawn
wrecklessly out of season,
a moment metamorphasizes me
i am the pollywog
short of pawtucket falls
swimming, waiting to leap
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