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When Summer Wanes

In mulling 'bout the season's gifts
Say, plums and sun and all its gain
Thinking it will never end
The season that shall never wane

Sitting near a Redbud shrub
Shielded by this summer tree
A bird collecting all his friends
And picking them from every tree

The squawking gulls; I hear them say
"It's cold and so it's time to fly..."
The endlessness of seasons ends
Summer, now, is turning shy...

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Comments

and vivid imagery.

Basya, I notice you have not given any feedback to anyone else since you joined Neopoet. I strongly recommend that you start doing so. The more you give the more you get and it helps you with your own craft thinking about and responding to other people's poems.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Managing Directors, with Richard (themoonman)

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