Poetry (Day 89): Dream Catcher

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     Dream Catchers

 

A cluster of boys,
green hair ransacked
by a long day, stand
at the edge of the stream
with their toes in the water.
With twiggy fingers
they cast their rusting
barbed-wire and ring-lock nets,
trying to conjure tadpoles
from the murk.

But all they snare
in their accidental dream catchers
are the upstream memories
of the boys
that have come before.

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