days like this
i miss
the old marsh the most
the birds hovering
over grasses
still green
and lonesome blowing
in the wind,
gray skies
playing above them.
shifting things,
blunt fresh air
in your face
your clothes swirl
like clouds
around you
and your life sprawls
out below you
like a valley.
the old marsh:
flat
as i am small...
days like this,
i realize
who i am
without it.
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