The spicy smell of moldering leaves. On the barn roof, the shadow of a blue jay lands on the shadow of a limb.
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The spicy smell of moldering leaves. On the barn roof, the shadow of a blue jay lands on the shadow of a limb.
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“Painting Ruins” is my poem response to TMP, and reposted at:
http://albertbcasuga.blogspot.com/2011/10/painting-ruins.html
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Morning #5 of gray, drizzling rain. The cats still insist on going outside and the house smells of wet fur. Small yellow leaves stick to our shoes, litter the carpet.