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Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #1295816
when I look out my window

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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