Poetry

Spymaster

The cedars were
whispering mysteries
in the easy rain
as day began
padding catlike
along the
eastern mountains
wet tracks
snaking over
the ridge line
but her approach
did not come
unnoticed,
the cedars,
old and wise,
slipped their
secrets off their
shoulder with a
sexy sway
and a smitten
westbound
wind,
ever dutiful,
whisked them
safely away

Categories: Poetry

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