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Leaf Tongues Diane Averill

 

Here is the perfect green
filbert leaf. The shadow
of the one above it
curves over its leaf fur.
Its body is not perfect but
the small hole in the shadow
lets the sun drop
its bright coins through.
Your touch turns
the surface of my skin
to lake water.
You play with my colors like sun,
though neither of us
is perfect here
at the end of summer.

From Branches Doubled Over With Fruit
Copyright © 1991 by the University of Central Florida Press
Reprinted by permission of the author

 
 


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