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Time’s Perennial Broom
by Larry Egort

Put the porch furniture back inside the shed.
Empty the spackled vases
Once potted with violets
And chrysanthemums,
Now stagnant with fallen leaves,
Runoff from rusted eaves.
The fan whispers,
I remembered it screamed.
Cooled as a morning river.

Pack up the canopy and pile up the trusses.
I recall birds nesting in the small hollow
Of its wooden frame,
And how Sunday morning’s coffee never needed any sugar.
We ate breakfast and read our newspapers
To our family’s mirthful delight,
And in the evenings we were tired siblings,
Stretched out over the veranda.

Time’s perennial broom
Sweeps dust from a once meticulous life,
Long since abloom
Over splintered boards and weathered steps
Descending without consequence,
Into the herbs, peas and tomato patch.





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