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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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