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Cottonwoods

Writer: Bob HazyBob Hazy

The cottonwoods

throw their cotton,

so their tarrying

won't be forgotten,

where water runs hidden,

they declare,

that they were bidden

stand guard there.


Those bits they float

upon the air

as spring

gives way

to summer,

reminders for us

a creek is where

we once

all went

to drink.








 
 
 

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