Sunday, June 23, 2013

Middle of the path

Wheelbarrows churn down into the groves
A path they know well
No surprises
At least they know they're in control of their burdens.

The road stretches before them
All of a sudden
Pop right up in front of the wheel. 
Screech to a halt 
Find delight, multiplicity and compliment
Waiting just inside the bunch.

Wheelbarrows squeak on again
This time, their attention on the flowers
Riding home. 

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