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Of things pinching:

bare feet on morning's frost

... a departing wave.

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P.S. The trees

drink deeply

... don't wait up.

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To drop after drop

she whispers

... but some will be lost.

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Inspired by Allyson Kalie at Photobucket

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A tiny hand
balloon of smiles
... away.

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Whale tears
brine wombs and seas -
whispers of blood in the trees.

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