August 22


I don’t know if it’s
a sun I see through
gaps in the summer
leaves or crows chasing
their tail feathers

or a moon rising
into autumn.

This is how life passes
with a play of shapes
and the mild fingers of the seasons
touching and leaving their
prints on the hillsides

where I watch the sun or the moon
through the summer leaves,
bearing love and color through the years.

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