Grandpa's wooden sign hung on the oak at the top of the hill for thirty years. "What is kale?" I finally asked.
This haiku is from my friend Ellie. She sends haiku to me with stories of her cats, invitations and reviews of books that someday I'd like to read.Fragile minute handtinier than a needlepushes me along.
Sometimes the sweepingminute hand, forgotten,attains a goal, unseen.
Risa - Wow!It's much much too lateto respond with a haikuhalf as beautiful.
Too late: a themepoets love to try,dreaming tall grassheavy with wind.:)
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