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In the Alder Grove
by Sharmagne Leland- St. John

In the alder  grove,
the naked branches strove
to touch
a cerulean sky,
while Wayne
and I
with chainsaw  stood,
the eventual
the winter winds
had strewn
upon the frosty

In the alder  grove
the naked branches strove
to reach 
a cloudless  sky
like slender maidens
carved from fragrant wood,
lithely they had stood,
branches ready to be hewn,
braving icy storms,
refusing to be
blown down,
upon the icy river
flowing south,
towards town. 

In the alder  grove,
the naked branches strove
to caress
the morning sky
while I
gathered kindling wood
from the muddy ground,
then glanced around
and saw a jackdaw
perched on high
as the chain saw
bit and gnawed and buzzed
the dampened wood.

One lone eagle flew,
swooping down
to catch a salmon
he had found.
He nabbed the salmon
on the wing
then, riding updrafts
high above the ground,
into a distant stand
of Ponderosa pines.
Beside the alder grove
the river flowed,
southward  into town.



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