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Replying to a comment on:
bonsai (Free verse) by richa The sun slopes from wide
like a gentle hill, and is cradled
by the branches
of birch standing crooked
like the crossed legs of a cow.
The south side of the valley
has been striped like sunburn,
and the crumbs
of soil are kindled like paper.
The park ranger, green coated
walks between beams
of light as solid as a stream's
constant water. With his secateurs
he corrects the branches,
walks back into the sun.
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