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  • Writer's picturesusanwismerpoet



6am mid-August, the backyard labyrinth.

The young brown rabbit doesn’t care much about me, takes her time

quiet chew, something low, round-leaved and green on the path ahead

hops ahead of my bare wakening

feet, past golden black-eyed susans, phlox in three colours, disappears

into shade under toothed leaves.

Tall cup plants, bright yellow magnets

for late summer monarchs, not yet

in flight.


After another night’s thunderstorm, before the daylong steady rainfall that the garden has wanted so much, a sliver of sunrise, an early morning swim.

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