I Know a Little . . .

The lawn I mow
squared off
lines directing eyes
to the spectrum's bouquet

These puddings that accompany
ballooned so proudly
sizzled in liquid bacon
smiles punctuate the process

This anticipated dawn
still dark, eager
chirps greet us as the door shuts
heart of the sunrise awaits the Mullica

These accumulated memories
sparkling and dripping
navigate my story

These children we rear
open unknown narrative elements
the show goes on, an ineffable ending

The details paint the landscape
The how defines

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