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Showing posts from February, 2026

Poem: What Would?

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What would? Pearwood, I presume. Perhaps poplar?  Surely not sycamore, Nor Norway Spruce. Willows are wishywashy  And alder's asleep. Oak is too old And fir is but a fluff. Ash is too angelic, Thorn is too tough!  Ah! Ne'er mind, Tis bone! - Brother Valentine Garnett some Saturday baking bread, a.s. LIX Just me, no A.i.