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From All of Us
to You!

The Tree, The House, The Sheep, The Book, The Hand by Oonah V Joslin

The tree



its branches spread towards the sky



glimmers beneath the myriad nightly stars



fans its protective canopy



over the meadow flock in daylight hours.






The house



elderly under its grey slate roof



glories in the longevity of stone



shelters human and animals alike



lends its sturdy walls to transient bone.






The sheep



that spent the summer on the hills



comes down to pasture for its lambs in spring



leaves us a coat behind for autumn's mists



knowing the hardships wintertime can bring.






The book



of every year is written thus,



each page is turned each one a season past



the book that's blank beyond our daily sketch,



fills up so quickly and is done so fast.






The hand



that scribes the pages wrinkles so



its frailty counts the passage of the days



its pains become a daily letting go



'til dirt divides the parting of the ways.




The Linnets Wings