Category: Miriam Miles Poetry
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Compost
I’ve been building my very first compost pile and watching the transformation of food, cardboard, coffee grinds and grass clippings decomposing into tiny, soft, moist fragments of soil, the makings of new life in the waiting. My words have been buried again. I think they might be decomposing, transforming and preparing to burst into new…
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is it too late?
By Miriam E. Miles
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that bright door
by Miriam E. Miles
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eye
By Miriam E. Miles
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pilgrim
By Miriam E. Miles
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bio-dad
By Miriam E. Miles
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succulent
By Miriam E. Miles
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rested
Inspired by Psalm 23…
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mute
I sucked in my breath as her words hung in the air…
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Cumulus
They hang together, hustled by the wind, their cartoon-drawn edges belying their tear-stained hues,
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quiver
I am afraid of that which lies inside
