At 9 a.m.
near covid’s end
the happy harmonica
across the way
chants a waltz with gleeish thumps

As Anya spills her fresh water saying
she misses cold ice
her short pink circus tent not far from garden’s edge.

Silence then. Just a
single distant rooster and nearby turkey brief condone relief of shade to spell this
handsome day.
Of let’s just say
reduceless heat
leaving swanlike sway of leaf unseen
to mark the
breezeless stay of day
As distant strain reverts to foxtrot ballads sung to mark the end of
land of proms
In this land whose granted last request
re-resurrects a deathless innocence

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