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This vernal morn

I step across frost tipped

grass, the heaved lawn

uneven

beneath my feet.

Above

birds utter and squeak –

raucous jay 

interrupts 

melodious robin

as is done time and time again.

It is an ordinary morn, and

the crunch of footfalls

will soften in

the sunrise rosy glow,

the birdsong declarations

will give way

to seed gathering,

I will move through

my patterns,

dictated by human time,

segments carved

in equal portions,

wrought in angles of

sun and moon.

 

 

By Melissa Kro.

 

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/ordinary/”>Ordinary</a&gt;

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