Green pail overturned in the garden,
the creaking hinge of a gate.
*
Above pebbled blankets of cloud, the sound
that groups of birds make, flying south.
*
The sticky wad of silk a spider wrapped
around a pouch still faintly pulsing.
*
Pale slick like melted butter
around a rising moon.
*
Branches that gave fruit after fruit
now mired in difficult remembering.
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