Now you rise at the first chirping of the birds, but then all their sounds will grow faint. — Ecclesiastes 12:4
Tucked into the green,
still so deeply enfolded,
until your part on stage begins,
a play in thee acts, the bud,
the bloom, the fall back
into humus.
—C.L. Fisher, May 2021
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Poetic Meanderings 