HANG MY HAT
WHERE LYDIA LIVED
A stone, with those ripples in the
so-calm waters, shatters the peace
of a morning. The birds sing towards
Welcome Lake, and three deer once
more are eating the bushes. Out back,
the lone red fox this morning watches.
In a glimmer his eyes form a question
seeing me. It's OK, Buddy, we both
can live here.
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