Transparent Words - Poetry

LB Sedlacek

Early Nothing

Weeds barking at the sundial.
Its skin smooth and gray; where
squirrels leave their walnut carcasses.

The outside is rough and green,
pulp discotheques
for bugs seeking happy hour.

A single toss and it is a baseball,
the back yard a pitcherís diamond,
and the neighborís window home plate.
They come to my door
their hands tinted green
and all I can do is laugh.



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