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My pen slithers in poetic taboo
For as it writhes, you’d think it frail
Sliding along the garden’s morning dew
Polished diamond-shine upon each scale

Writing the lines as though I rhyme in schemes
Reptilian only within my dreams
I have always had a slight fear of snakes, but I usually try to overcome the fear if I’m given the chance to pet one.
For migrating birds
Autumn is vacation time
Lucky little birds
Old friends two bookends
Catching fish and memories
On a river bank
Fish dart through the rocks
Nibbling our invading toes
As we crush their world
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