I’ll Take Your Offering

Kabobs wind drift through

my open windows.

Crickets carry on

conversing riddling language

I don’t understand.

Maybe they’re telling stories.

Reminiscing times before

I would know love is not pretty

lace perfectly bowed.

Maybe they’re passing jokes.

What do you call losing Heaven’s song?

What?

A major discord.

Their musical legs rub

a melodious laugh.

Joy settling over

tiring earth.

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