From Across the Meadow

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From across the meadow
that comes between the highway
and our house, I can see the stand
of tall trees marking our place
on this wide earth.

They wave to us
in the warm summer breeze,
watch anxiously as we
cross the busy tracks
and make the wide turn,
safe again,
home –

and when we stroll
through the green evening yard,
inspecting rose and blushing tomato
these guardian spirits
patiently wait
as the veil of crimson
silently falls.

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