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Saturday, December 24, 2016

Bog

in venomous flowers lie a
secret buried within a secret;
a dark tale of no mystery, but of
sad luck and muck

for if secrets were clean they would
possess a mossy swamp to
cover them up and
leave no one to sit or trot

towards the horizon
willows layer for oil to burn
pine of larch and black poplar webbed
between boundaries with fences high

humor entombs itself
past the pebble path
landing finally on a wooden shelf
where shadows are the aftermath

©Andrea Laws (Author) December 24, 2016