orgami's Diaryland Diary

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not yet fall

stood on the trestle
looking down at the swirling
foam of the dark creek
Smelled the hot warmth of
cresote and dust looked
at the rust of the middle
rails slag purple in the
afternoon heat the lake
mystic and mournful
calm

all about crickets called and
cars passed across on the highway
bridge The huge wooden timbers
criss cross underneath of her
limbs

pushed the bike along the wooden
ties the chain snapping on the
tension of the derailer
the wooden knobby handlegrips
bouncing under my hands
my finger paining still long
after the crash

just out for a run up the highway
alone on the busy afternoon stretch

bait laid out a cassette tape
forelorn with rusted songs
the trail of the abandoned and busy

the green still thick not chopped
by frost yet to come

time to bring in the houseplants
outside Just seems like yesterday
carried them out they fatten with
the summer rains and sunshine
and do well through winter behind
the shaded blinds

steam heat

Duschene for another day I turn
about at the highway and return
the sunset golden the shadows deep
green the mosses soft in the gravel
depths

11:58 p.m. - 2009-08-23

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