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March 2008, vol 4 no 1

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Christine Shook

 

New Year's Day

I like the rain on New Year’s Day, it makes the branches of trees look faraway and you can’t see the patches of peeled bark on the sycamore trees.  In the distance I see an old friend and when we catch up I huddle under her umbrella while our dogs chase each other through the puddles.  Eventually we decide to walk home.

Leaves cling
to the soles of my shoes
untimely
magnolia buds
fool me into spring