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Midnight Bathers

By John I. Blair

When I glance out
My kitchen window
Late at night
I spy beneath a lamp
A plastic bowl.


It sits there so the birds
And other animals
Can slake their thirst
On baking
Summer noons.


But after dark
It morphs into a footbath,
A wading pool, a place
For water dancing,
Splashing, washing off,


For liquid larking
In the moonlight.
And little owls
Screech
In nearby trees,


Sad they cannot
Chance damp fun
With possums,
Toads,
Raccoons.


2020 John I. Blair, 8/30/2020


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