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First Picnic of the Season
2018
Over in the neighbor’s garden I see the following scene:
A long and quiet table gleaming in the morning sun;
a linen cloth with pink and white stripes
flutters lightly in the breeze.
And on it
standing tall
and stained
one solitary
wine glass,
so
quaint
a token
left behind
before their sated yawns invoked the night.
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