in the dell
wilted summer where
leaf and landing
twig, whiff
and damp
with which falls were
it’s puddle to a pond
when rain has had its days
shelter in the daylight
trod grass
with lemon
and another
just breathe in
let the eyes breathe
in days of creek
the dell gush
a week beyond still
singing high
music is made of wings there
all of a world is edge to
dell
every word spoken led
that’s where the green is
brightest
that’s where your bird sings
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