Morning Poem, June 6, 2019

In the bright morning the mowers drone

And the neighbor’s cats, white and grey

Slither down the road

Pretending to be benign on their silent feet

But ready to kill

An early breeze whispers through the line of elms

At the edge of Marcum’s lot

Bringing me the scent of the honeysuckle

Draping the fences

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