Friday, August 15, 2008

The Barrel of a Gun

New thunder 
erupting from the ground.
Can I sense the pain? 
Or is it a gift?
Melon's tumbling up the hill.
Trot free, trot before time
grasps the hidden treasure.
Before gravity tugs
at the pouch of growing life.
The hot air balloon 
expanded to great fear;
has flown to no return.

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