Walking through the pasture
to visit Ann
before sun disappears
and the chill sets in,
I cross the dry creek bed,
to stand in a meadow—
arrested by the sight
of grass and trees
awash in golden light.

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After our visit,
I step out to a whiff
of skunk, but proceed
towards home
on foot
anyway.

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Light
from the full moon
would reveal black and white
on the move. I see no
skunk. Only Moon
and Venus.

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Can there be
too much
beauty?