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The Weekend Beckons
By Annette Marie Hyder
The moon says come sit by me, I’ll tell you a story.
The stars say they’ll sparkle and shine
but the wind in the trees is what moves me
to tremble all leaf-like and fine
is the rustle in the dark of the forest
and the music of wild things and vine
purrs and merrowrs and huffs clary sage,
birch tar, labdanum, and pine.
I saved you a seat, some starlight, some moonlight,
I captured the breeze in my hair. The night is like wine
I’ve opened the bottle while I wait for you here.