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It’s been warm but quite rainy in Louisville this past week, bringing fog to the river and dampness to the ground. I was reminded of this little poem I wrote a bit ago. 

 

I sat on the hillside by the river, 

as drops of earth found their way with drops of rain

to the confluence of all their destinies

 

Standing still, the trees,

unhurried by the changing ground,

still clung to the hill

 

Quietly their branches hung

like lanterns in the fog,

inviting guests to enter and to rest

their feet from the changing ground

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