Tuesday, September 13, 2011

August Lips

Lips of August winds pucker
wafting lisping leaves.
Trembling, they stutter,
flagging the breeze
on a feral day.

Distant trees
silver with sound
quake in the swirling storm.

The cat stirs,
yawns in the tempest.
Kneading paws extend,
her nose nudges my hand
ushering a new day in.

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