Raymond A. Foss Poems

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in the dirt, the lawn, just barely visible
a bit of smooth color, catching the light
the wet earth, after the mower cleared more away
a piece of amethyst, the stem of a goblet perhaps
pulled from the ground, no longer hidden
soft living color, muted purple lilac
cool in my hand, heavy crystal in my pocket
carried with me for the afternoon
saved for further contemplation
on the meaning of the finding
amethyst, under the living pine

June 21, 2009

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