What would a still river say
of its thirsty trees?
Would it ask them to come in
a little tighter on its banks?
Perhaps the dark fog may be
a reminder of hope circling the drain
Perhaps the approaching night
might awaken fear from inky shadows
The moon pears cautiously from behind
They all agree- in whispers
“We’ll leave the night to sleep”
Real Toads– Artistic Impressions
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