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Volume 3, Number 4
April, 1998

Echos of the Garden

I inhale the moist fragrance of the earth
mixed with the fragrance of the
hot sweat
of my own body.

I feel the sun on the my back,
the cool dirt under my
and on my cheek
and nose from where I
scratched an itch.

The weeds are green and strong.
Sone slip easily
from their bed,
others put up a great fight,
like a huge swordfish in the ocean.

Some win and I
leave them behind with a sigh.
And my back,
frozen into the stooping position

-- Liesbet Huron
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