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Almost Evening Skies

The grass is gone, a bed of weeds now in its place.
But what are weeds if not the grass that needs no keeper?
And as I sit upon soft earth, I hear sounds of nature and suburbia,
Squirrels and students chattering alike,
Crickets chirping and streetlamps shining like stars in the almost evening sky.

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  • DevinCora
    September 2

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    wow, the imagery was absolutely brillant in this poem. The second line is so my favorite. But I love this whole write.... perfection.