domingo, 19 de julio de 2020

To my great- grandson

Karen Cronick


A quite tiny little man
ran under the canopy
of a full-branching tree.
He ran with certainty, 
assuredly. He knew

the tree belonged to him.
He could run there. The limbs
and trunk were his, as were
the grass, the sky, and the lure
of life in the day-break dew.


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