PANNING FOR GOLD

all day, limbs
filled with sunrise and sunset
discharge pages
with or without rain

~*~

how many blades from a single tree
does a row of bags at curbside arrest

how many in the two bins beside my barn
wither into black debris my wife treasures

~*~

repeating brief sunset clouds
discharge blood or flames until

one night droplets fall
through empty branches

when our five months of winter begin

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Copyright 2015

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