A quick draft destined for revision at a later time…
Into the Woods
We picked blackberries,
Walked the creek so cool and deep,
Ferns crowded the slopes
As robins and their shadows
Hid from the sharp heat of noon.
A Tanka for PB’s Poem for Gnomes with form restriction: 5.7.5.7.7 syllables
It's Still Life 
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