
Brush covered caves call
home the ghosts.
Night eyes follow her retreat.
Scrub oaks block the wind
Sentries on the path
that brought her there.
A whippoorwill echoes
off the hills.
Webs glimmer and bounce.
boundaries stretched
like moonlight through
the leaves
right before they fall.
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December 22, 2007 at 8:34 pm and is filed under poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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