The cedars were
whispering mysteries
in the easy rain
as day began
padding catlike
along the
eastern mountains
wet tracks
snaking over
the ridge line
but her approach
did not come
the cedars,
old and wise,
slipped their
secrets off their
shoulder with a
sexy sway
and a smitten
ever dutiful,
whisked them
safely away

Author: OdinsBard

Writer, author, Navy vet, musician, intermittent mystic, old soul and practicing poet

4 thoughts on “Spymaster”

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