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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Environment >> ID #1295816 |
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Sliding
I dreamt years ago of a houseboat in Sausalito, but my sliding glass doors only open to a pond. Of that houseboat in Sausalito I have little to say, but I can speak of the mourning doves that sing to me each day. And my sliding glass doors reveal red pilliated woodpeckers drumming a jazz reveille on a dying bald cypress. Only open to a pond, but the wide sky reflected in its waters, the blue herons come to ask me What I dreamt of long ago. Prompt Subject: Out My Window (describe, in vivid detail, what you see out your window) Word(s) to use: [none] Word(s) not to use: [none] Other requirements/restrictions: This is an exercise in imagery, it should be filled with descriptive words. Paint a picture with your words!
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