The linebackers claim
they were from the north peninsula - or pole. Their secret. But muscular, they face prepared for a dazzling stream of white confetti - ticker tapes of bonded and aged holly fixed to posts, bricks, homes - see the street animated for fleet and frigid travelers. Directions are easy as this child waits for the boatload - willingly donating sleep for boxes and crates. But today the sun sleeps in shadow for flying in each direction - flakes twinkling - seriously dousing toes and fingers for snowballs. It's a good day for pine, not pining for green parades. They arrive with fallen leaves too heavy for darling eyes. Sleep while they sprint the planet. Easy for their flight in vehicles, carriages all named for transporting hearts - as dawn crawls toward urchins awake. Back to the North Pole they sail. © 2013 Larry Ingram
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Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture. Categories
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December 2018
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