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Liilia Talts Morrison

Traces

Each day is filled with tiny traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
And crab holes when the tide is low

Each breath exhaled and new step taken
Leaves markings not to be erased
Small cherished patterns fain forsaken
In nature’s cunning woven lace

The crumbs that fall from modest tables
Are soon retrieved by little ants
A spider’s web the stuff of fables
Embraces woodland’s lushest plants

We make a difference as we wander
Among the throng and rush of day
Our every movement filled with wonder
Touched by a gentle force at play

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Everglades Morning

Slow summer dawn nudges a mourning dove brood
White ibises gather to forage for food
In snowy assurance proud egrets alight
Their liquid reflection a graceful delight
Slim wading birds carefully survey the swamp
Where crocodile death jaws are waiting to chomp

This camp in the wild is my last hope to find
Some meaning and purpose in life’s painful grind
I watch from a hammock of canvas and rope
Estranged from emotions, unable to cope
Yet creatures around me with vigor display
A dignified courage in nature’s harsh fray

My rambling, how different - fear follows each stride
Evading broad highways I cower wayside
Ungainly days shrivel like Glade grass to fold
As tropical darkness turns weeds into mold
How can I gain courage from Everglade ways
Rise high with bold saw stalks in trade winds to sway?

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Persian Dreams

Dreams of old Khayyam's Rubayat
And glazed brown shiny doors of old
Now open up to darkened candy stores
Burst from imagination's folds

The doors fly open and alas
I see but bare walls of an empty room
No comics stands or chocolate bars
No Brownie Hawkeye cameras to buy

The candy store was dark and narrow then
So rich with hidden treasures in its womb
For the most part I could not afford
I was but twelve and thirteen then

It must have been in late teenage
That Persian poets came into my life
With jugs of wine, and loaves of bread
Words that could last a lifetime and beyond

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