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The dandelions are out again this morning
In late afternoon they disappear
Must be the sun opens them
And in shade they silently close
A fog bank beyond the farthest line of trees
Hovers over unseen ocean
Fades imperceptibly into light blue

Here daisies grow wild by the porch
On long stalks that wave in the breeze
Leave well enough alone
An expression likely to recede
For we do not talk like that anymore
You know what I’m saying?
The fog advances now cloaking the tree line in mist

Birds cruise the fields
Three robins on the lawn hopping
Blue jay on a branch of pine
Sound track of calls most various
These are mere outlines of description
An embarrassment of sincerity
One giving oneself to place

In the shade of the porch the hum of the fan
A CD hung with fishing line twirls in the breeze
A signal to unwanted intruders, stay away
The wind picks up, coolness
Letters on a page in sun
Under shade of hand
Not satisfied, no, not ever

Sky completely empty overhead
Sun on neck and shoulder
Memory clasped in language
Moving across a field
Fog graying and drifting
Fawn enters field from forest