Thursday, January 2, 2014

Cinquain

The smell
Everyone moves
To the window to look
Work stops and people start talking
Rain came






Baseball

Bat cracks against

The pitch, sending it out

Over the back fence, I did it!

Homerun





Listen...

With faint dry sound,

Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees
And fall.















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