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Spring Mornings Mia, Age 14, Merritt Island, FL |
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Blue grass dew
slipped down my feet leaving a shining trail of prints as I broke the glimmering sheet. "My dears, the morning's bright," A swaying Baby's Breath whispers of the morning's light. Cockscomb tilts her ear towards calls from the awakening farms on the first spring morning of the year. Larkspur twinkling out a song so soft yet trill that slips into the dreams of the flower throng. Weaving, Queen Anne's Lace, silent at her duty. Occasionally lifting her white, sunny face. Leaning against the other, shy, watching the others arise: Solidaster. Content to sway and watch the sky. Looking down the fields, I walk, listening mutely with a smile to the flowers' morning talk. |
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This page was last updated on December 05, 2010 by the KIWW Webmaster. |