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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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