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I like the way
the sun
crawls over the sleepy mountain--
first a mere suggestion
behind a silhouette,
then the sky,
now a bold finger-eye
into which
I cannot stare
at the window,
in the shade
of an old tee shirt
and socks--
I am found.

13 Mar 99

© Copyright 1999, E. Granger-Happ, All Rights Reserved.

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