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Note to A Morning Walker

You might think the quiet is
the first thing you’ll notice.
Wrong.
Colors jump out and grab at
your ankles, your rumpled sweatshirt,
your yet to be combed hair.
Damp and freshly rinsed, the pink peony
green maple tree deeper than
the fresh green of your untrimmed grass
and look there, the red enamel spout
on the watering can in the hands of
your neighbor in her lavender silk pajamas.
And last of all, the surprise of the dark purple
blueberry, the one you dropped in your coffee
long ago, before your morning walk, and forgot
busy with colors.
Go ahead, drink it in.

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