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Just Like Me

Just like me,
my garden grows,
I tend a little,
the rest God knows.

I edge the walks
and cut the grass.
I shape a bush
before I pass.

Persian ironwood,
curved and strong,
eucalyptus,
whippy, long,

they have their natures,
just like me.
Some brush their neighbors,
bush hugs tree.

Early morn,
I walk outside,
enjoy the chill,
a bloom with pride.

Stars are out.
The dew is light.
Fall is here,
a longer night.

An egret flies
from lake to tree,
awe in stillness,
just like me.

© Brenneman T. October 3, 2003

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You're Plate

You're plate's my bait,
intimidate!
What you're eating
sure looks great!

© Brenneman T. October 4, 2003

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God's Music with Their Limbs

If song were to wash our world of murmured words,
have it sing a clear refrain,
would we hear melodic tones
with man's coarse and quite insane?

The voices of ten thousand men
cantillate in every key,
some low and soft to children
some loud the revelry.

An ear grows sore of hearing.
as the chord's vibration ends.
This is when the crickets rub
God's music with their limbs.

© Brenneman T. October 20, 2003

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Captured Illusions

Dreams in puddles
on memory's ground,
capture illusions,
almost drowned.

Their breath may yellow
on once white pages,
or mirror truth's rise
in struggling stages.

Your finger touches
poem's wetted rim.
Words may ripple,
that you might swim.

© Brenneman T. October 26, 2003

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