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September First

September First is a burst of clear touches of blue and soft winds on dew in crystal mornings that warm to silent fires holding trees in dire and such lusty love-embrace that they know no more of Summer. I decorate

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Posted in Biking else matters, Blog de companie, Invisible stories, My poems, Wordsmith

“Language is not like the sun,
heating and scorching
but like the moon
keeping secrets
and the arcane magic of the night
throwing stars
in the lilacs’ claws
till dawn.” -Iulia Halatz

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