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Poem: True Indian Summer 

True Indian Summer

Pine & hickory fresh cut
trees of two weeks back fell where
they lay, making an obtrusive V on
the front lawn.
One nest lay among the ruins,
where neighboring birds tried vainly
to rescue its contents.
This morning of true Indian Summer
brought us closer in bed. Dry humping
in bed clothes still half asleep as
rays of a new sun blister through
windows of glass and tall laughing plants.
We get up savor each other and
take notice of the two chunky white
tailed deer dance in morning dew.
The garden recently put to bed
snuggled under mulch awaits next
years abundance,
I hear the click of the muzzle.

Two shots later I see legs furiously
kick the air.
It’s lungs will soon collapse.
My glorious morning
badly shattered.

There will be fresh venison in
the freezer this winter...

  • A poem by Teresa Marta Costa.


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