Each one sees what he carries in his heart
Goethe
Atop the fence's
Corner post
A squirrel or maybe a crow
Took lunch of a tasty pecan,
Snapped the nut meat neatly
From its wooden casing,
Left behind for us
Left behind for us
The still green husk.
For interest's sake
Not a poor trade on
My day.
My day.
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