Power
lines have cleaved the mountain-high October sky
The
deep blue now exposed on both sides
In
the valley, a river veers like liquid steel through a great depth of cottonwood
trees turned fiery by a high sun
Carrying two buckets, a young boy runs along a wooded trail he has used all summer
Occasionally
the boy brings the buckets together as he runs
The
banging buckets echo through the woods
And
the leaves the boy has gathered splash out a little each time the buckets join
Yellow
from one bucket
Red
from the other
--Mitchell
Hegman
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