After a windy night, the whole horizon is visible beyond the trees. I watch one of the last oak leaves float down, rocking, taking its time.
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The Morning Porch/Patio
The view from my front porch (in Pennsylvania) or back patio (in London) every morning, in 140 or fewer characters
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As with so many of your poems, James, this gives me comfort. So lovely in its simplicity and wisdom.