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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2174514
environment shapes us

What drab landscape -
no movement,
Still air, still life.
All is still.

No birds sing.
No deer feed.
No creek runs through.

Brittle and gray,
dry and unused,
waiting, wishing for nothing.

Leave … why would I?
My domain, my kingdom.
This barren tract
is part of me,
my mind, my heart.

in the switchgrass,
motionless clouds above,
eyes dulled
to a haze.

Here born, and here I’ll lie,
no whisper on my lips,
no notion to arise.


24 lines
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2174514