Monday, December 23, 2013

Green Maples

The definitive stamps in the treetops.
Stamps like handprints across the sky.
Summer is the season of brilliant green tempests.
Tempestuous in its smooth, silken shudders.
I long to lay down below and slumber, rather than wilt outside of the protection.
In the safety I could bask unasked.
Growing together like old friends.

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