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January 2019, vol 14 no 4

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Mary Myers

Just Another Beech

dull sunset
the russet hue
of my oak tree

I thought I had prepared. I never expected my winter to be so bleak. Some tell me to relish my autumn with the husband who acts like it's spring again. Peculiar, or perhaps even funny, since we hadn't met till summer and we spent our spring flings with others.

Last season, I didn't know any better, since my head was up in the clouds the whole time anyway. Except at night when, it seemed, the stars were shining a lot brighter than they actually were.

icy ball
Pluto's status;
it's complicated


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