Something new (and late) over on my poetry blog.
Indian Summer Indian Summer, golden and implausibly charred. Only one pot holds flowers to reach for the sun, all of the others contain withered wraiths of long-spent blooms, their calendar clocks denying the possibility Of these late September days. ©AndrewJamesMurray
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We finally have rain today (off and on). A friend and I had breakfast outside in the lovely warm breeze.
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Sounds a beautiful start to the day.
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