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Poetry

Waterbug Poem

This entry is part 4 of 8 in the series Pond Life

By W. George Scarlett | Waterbug, waterbug, always gliding / Never sinking, always sliding…

The Chef’s Special Dough

By W. George Scarlett | I have sometimes wondered how came the stars, not to mention the moon and Mars. Are they someone’s leftover Christmas tree snow? Or perhaps they are mothballs – I really don’t know.