Roots

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Roots

by sloanranger


I come from a land of leaves

and trees

and sidewalks buckling because

of these ... 

a land of meadows and buzzing bees,

grasses climbing 

up to our knees ...

of summer twilights,  

and bugs that light,

brightly blinking in the night. 

I come from the sweet and sweat

of honey-suckled streets,

of screen doors slapping

and adults sipping

sweet ice-tea

slowly  ...

on the front porch swing.



52217 sloanranger 672017sloanranger

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