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When only a child we would play, our nets in hand, to chase the pond rewards – from tadpoles of spring, to jumpers in summer, the murky deep of a run-off pond we knew the danger. Down on our knees, we thought of snorkel to intrude upon the world beyond pond’s edge. His tiny feet disappear slow while I wait …
Peer my way you know
The glass now contains my friend
lily pad water
What Crosses My Mind 
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