|June 7th, 1998|
By David P. Salamone
Awakening to song of cardinal,
Since clocks do I detest.
Cool spring breeze through open window,
Fills lungs with morning's breath.
Moreover, again, with life.
No sounds other than nature's own,
Heard throughout this home.
What has been laid out night before,
Silently calling to me,
To, again, begin the chase.
Coffee's eye-opening aroma,
Drifts through this calm and gentle space.
Smell of toasted bread with jam,
Will satisfy my taste.
What thought is this of stream far away,
That holds trout in tailrace?
And as I think of leaving now,
What calls me to this place?~ David P. Salamone
River Bed by Dave Motes
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