Walked the weedy paths this cool morning,
Hearing trees creak and on high a red hawk calls:
Keek-ker-keek.
On the inward turns, wish for reminders that friends, far or near
Care. The dogs romp through glowing plumed grasses and
A reminder comes.
On the outward turns, hope to meet the day with grace, with
Contentment. The sun-washed air so clear, is soft, sweet and I
Can look forward.
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