The bridge spans the stream between
fields of flowers and muddy trails.
I wish I'd caught the pixels—
pointilliste perspectives and a vanishing point.
Grey wood and keeling beams,
frogs by the saponated stream
creaking unseen.
I seek Your images
to keep forever
on my screen.
Flowers wink
in the falling light.
Frogs in the grey grass
creak unseen.
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