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by Pamela A Lamppa 8 lines, 16 comments, on Mar 27 6:39 PM 2008. In Gardening
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The grass is at my elbow. / The weeds are to my knees. / I’d like to start the mowing, / But that will make me wheeze. / The pollen starts
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Dust motes drift lazily before the small window / grimy with accumulated years of neglect. / A shaft of pale sun hunts a crack in the pane,
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Green things are calling,
they're singing out my nameby Amythest Moonjade 30 lines, 22 comments, on Mar 20 1:24 PM 2007. In Critical, Nature, Gardening, Contemporary -
by Celticpoet 19 lines, 3 comments, on Jul 9 1:17 AM. In Life, Nature, Society, Thoughts, Gardening, Cleanliness, Urban decay
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Gardening puts me at ease. Even though tackling the unruly weeds which creep into my outdoorsy home seems more of a battle then a way to re
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twisting bitter against the tongue
falling into a long hallway: -
the open walls enclosing overhead
crawling into the embrace of place -
Dreams of crimson roses,
dance inside her head
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