Poetry
1 min
High Noon
Edward Dewar
Always in demand,
often doled out
in ounces,
semi-precious
and somewhat combustible.
It's Friday, defiant
last day
of the workweek,
envoy of a lazy Saturday.
A crow flies to the top
of a yellowing
Lombardy
poplar
and shrieks
at a prowling tabby cat.
Later today hobby farmers
and artisans
will set up
their display tables.
Across the street
in an abandoned lot
two neighbourhood
kids begin
circling
each other
with orchestrated toughness.
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