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October 2013, vol 9, no 3

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Marjorie Buettner


Cycle of Life

These spring nights are filled with the scent of blossoms opening. I can almost hear them in the dark while waiting for the promise of fireflies. Soon fish will be spawning on the lake and another cycle will have begun. I see the wide, white arc of their splashing bodies glimmer in the morning sun, catching life mid-air.

my granddaughter's skin
as soft as butterfly wings
or rose petals
alive now against all odds
I bow to the gods in her




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