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Saturday, May 28, 2011

Embedded Figure

It is not for me
That our white azalea
Erupts into snowy blossom,
Nor for the shaggy bees
Who jealously chased me away.
It blooms instead
For the rabbit hiding underneath,
Who carved an indentation in the mulch,
Stretched a delicate forepaw
And carefully washed her face,
Then settled in,
Ears twitching sentry duty,
Eyes falling closed
For just a bit of nap.
~ Kate Lydon

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