Summer 2002 • Vol. XXIV No. 3/4 PoetryJuly 1, 2002 |

Late Summer Dew

Some measure whose meaning we defer something passing between sky and grass like a hand pressing lightly on a head of hair some love or liking daily growing more definite the drenched grass silver in the dawn's light and we humans between, walking on air.

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Pieces of Eight

By Elizabeth Smither

Some measure whose meaning we defer something passing between sky and grass like a hand pressing lightly on a head of hair some love or liking daily growing more definite […]

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