I wrote this poem sometime between 1983 and 1985. I had taken a walk on a cloudy afternoon. It was one of those liminal days when the moon hangs in the sky like a reminder of the mysteries of life. In the front yard of a home in Santa Monica, there stood a barren tree. A single fuchsia dangled brightly from a branch. It caught my eye and my heart as I walked alone, despite all I had accomplished.
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Original text ©2024 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by , , via Wikimedia Commons