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Look
by
Ann Roske

Wind
on a
warm summer
day carries the
resinous scent of
pitch and earth; the sound of
tractors and children playing.
Song bird voices mingle with the
haunting cry of red tail hawks surfing
thermal waves; scent and sound drift on the breeze

Form of this poem is Etheree

--Submitted by bambooshoot on 2012-06-08.

martin1223:
passing tug • the smell of blossoms
Posted 12/25/2012 10:36 AM

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