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In The Spirit Of

He follows sunlight’s lead,
Rising and falling with the
Hiding and showing of the
Moon, that which circles
’bout, as do his children,
Three, and wife, One.

He races through the weeds,
Laying in the grass when
Reaching a lawn worn thin
By tiny, grown feet; and he
Cares for this canvas, where
Their hearts never stopped
And eyes never ceased
Being open to possibilities.
His hands trace routes in
The green, looking for
Their smiles in his memories,
While all after him holds more
Than what he could have seen.
Stilled, he finds solace in the leaves.

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musings & scribbles