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Jim Howell

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East of Jobson
by Jim Howell

Monday, April 21, 2003

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Recent poems by Jim Howell
•  Here - There
•  Dreaming
•  First Day of School
•  The River Runs Deep
•  This Holiday Season
           >> View all 50

Autumn. At last the season had
Come and nature was once again
Working wonders in the east. The
Sky was on fire with a glow reminiscent
Of those warm bondfires on blustery
Nights. The orange at the horizon gave
Way to gold, which slowly turned into
A thin margin of yellow. Just above it,
A very pale greeen was barely visible as
The lighter of two blues took over and
Swept upward into a much deeper blue that
Went to regions unknown.

Where power lines stretched toward the
Awakening sun, lights danced and their
Flickerings resembled a mere candle from
A distance. To the southeast, the sky for
Awhile was an ocean; treetops formed the
Shore and instead of racing outward, the
Sea bent slightly upward and poured into
That endless blue. Slicing blades of an
Eerie pinkish light thrust themselves at
The clouds in the south, thus dividing them.
Where birds glided toward the southern
Horizon, the silhouette of a lone tree marked
Their course for a short time. They
Disappeared as the remainder of the
Sunrise was emptied onto the
Lonely abandoned fields.

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Reviewed by Digital Fairy 4/21/2003
very enchanting, this picture you paint..
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